A Captain and a Hobbit's Love Story
by Zeech
Summary: Diamond thinks Pippin is a selfish, no good Hobbit, Faramir is madly in love with Eowyn, and Boromir lives. What exactly is going on here? A love story, that's what!
1. I

a/n:This takes place in a sort of alternate universe where Faramir and Eowyn aren't together yet, just friends. Boromir lives because this is a lighthearted tale and to have it marred with the grief of Boromir's absence would hurt too badly. I hope you all enjoy it!

A Captain and a Hobbit's Love Story 

**Chapter One**

Diamond of Long Cleeve, a particularly pretty Hobbit girl with a particularly pretty un-Hobbit name, strode down the empty streets of Minas Tirith with tears glittering in her eyes and running down her cheeks. She was walking out on who she thought to be the most selfish, stupid, and ridiculously shy Hobbit she had ever laid eyes on and would not stop if he had called her back to apologize or propose marriage.

I suppose that is how she found me. I just so happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time when the pretty Hobbit girl showed up and because of it my world, well, crumbled from that moment on. 

I was stargazing. I do that quite often, especially on nights when solitude suits me. I had wanted to be alone that evening because there was a huge banquet going on that the King had pitched to honor the guests from the Shire on their third visit to Minas Tirith. I had been invited – come to think of it, everyone had been invited - and I made an appearance, but just to greet Peregrin, Meriadoc, Samwise and Frodo, whom had become my friends in the past two years.  I had no idea there were more little folk visiting, and had not been prepared to greet them!

My friend, perhaps the dearest friend in all the world to me, Eowyn, had come all the way from Rohan with her brother, King Eomer of the Mark, and would be staying for a while to see the Hobbits again, and to visit the King and Queen (along with my brother and myself). She arrived a fortnight ere that day and had fully expected me to make more than just an appearance at the banquet; so when she saw me leaving after the first five or so minutes we parted with bitter words. 

Before I go on further, perhaps I should give you the reasons why our bitter parting had me so downcast that night.

Put simply, I was in love with her. I loved the ground she walked on, I loved the air she breathed, I loved every word she spoke, I loved her golden tresses of hair, I loved her piercing eyes, I loved her musical voice – I even loved her when she was scolding me! I loved her more than I had ever loved anything. When she walked by me my heart would fall into my stomach and I would become sick with a joy I had never felt before. 

It had all started from the first moment I saw her, when she had been eager to go back to the battle and resented being shut up in the House of Healing; but me? I was content to just look at her; just to hear her voice as it danced with the sounds of the wind.

Even after all of the battles, all of the grief and the heartache and the war and peace I had been through I still could not summon the courage to tell her this. Eowyn was a shieldmaiden and would have nothing to do with love, or marriage, that I was sure of. She saw me only as a friend, but I knew that one day we would be together. The stars and the moon insisted upon it. I could feel it in my bones so deeply, so madly…it was such a burning, wrenching feeling that I would often forget to breathe and my brother would have to revive me (it was particularly embarrassing when I would be meeting with my King and forget to breathe in his presence). 

So now you know why I loved her, and why my spirits had fallen so that night.

I was lying on my back on the ground – yes, on the street. Rather the side of the street. My brother and I had given up our past…very large homes in the tower for homely sized lodgings just right for a solider in separate buildings about six streets apart from one another. My brother was now the Steward of Gondor, and I was the Captain. Boromir, however, whenever approached with the topic, vowed that at any sign of attack he would drop his duties as Steward, grab his sword and run into battle himself if no one would give him a horse. My brother drank in the glory of battle. 

Forgive me, I strayed from the subject. 

So I was lying on my back, on the side of the street and looking up into the dark, cloudless sky. She was a very dark color; a rich navy blue or black, I could not determine which and that was why I was so absent of myself when the Hobbit girl threw herself at me. The wind was sweeping gently through the streets and even went low enough to sweep through my hair and make the skin on my bare arms prickle. I smiled faintly as my eyes followed a nameless trail of stars that winded beyond my vision, and my voice hummed in my throat. 

I was only smiling and humming because I had been remembering what Eowyn had looked like when she had verbally assaulted me about missing the banquet for the shire folk visitors. I was so caught up in memories that I did not hear the footsteps of the girl.

Before I could muster any kind of response there were two feet planted on either side of my chest, and a tear streaked face looking down at me. It was the hobbit girl I keep talking about: Diamond of Long Cleeve, as you probably suspected. But I did not know that then, and when she dropped to her knees and gripped my collar with her little hands and pulled my lips to hers I did not know how to react. I remember making some sort of helpless shout deep in my throat, but she ignored it and continued to kiss me.

Then Diamond released me, and my head fell back with a rather discomforting thump onto the (hard) streets of Minas Tirith. My eyes were wide and my jaw slacked open stupidly– but at least I remembered to breathe. She gazed numbly down at me, but I could see in her eyes that it was not I she saw. It was something that had broken her heart and she was, in a very unusual way, taking it out on me. 

Though no apology reflected in her eyes or in her tone, she still said in a weary, broken-hearted voice, "I'm sorry. I should have expected one of you big people to never have seen a Hobbit before." she got off of me and began to walk off, gathering up her delicate skirts in her little fingers and gingerly departing. I shook my head to clear away the fog and doubled to a sitting position, turning to watch her leave. After a moment of stunned silence, I only found it my duty to inquire,

"Will you be all right, little lass?"

Diamond did not turn, but replied over her shoulder, "Who knows? Will the sunrise tomorrow, will the stars still shine if it doesn't? Only time will tell." And then she turned a corner and was gone. I did not know if it had been a dream or not so I just settled back down, cast my gaze back to the darkened sky and watched the stars move ever so slowly above me. Just as slowly did I bring my hand up to touch my lips – they still burned of the little maiden's kiss, and I could not help but wonder what would have driven her to do such a thing.

Then I thought of Eowyn, and how it would be – how _wonderful_ it would be if she had been the one to steal the kiss and not the Hobbit lass. And in turn I would steal her heart just as she had stolen mine, and the world would stop turning, the great Rivers would stop flowing and the Elves would stop chiming their song for just a moment – and it would be the two of us, caught in a moment we would never forget, while the rest of Middle Earth faded into grey and blue in the background.

Well, I was suddenly so overcome with thoughts of the woman I loved that I forgot to breathe, and the next thing I remember was the toe of a boot nudging my ribs and voices chattering back and forth above me. 

"He forgot to breathe again?"

"Aye, it happens, do not worry yourself over him." Boromir's voice rumbled to my ears and I groaned, then quickly pulled in a sharp breath before slitting my eyes at the two new figures that hovered over my prone body. One, of course, was my brother and the other was 

"My King!" I scrambled to my feet too fast for my own good and nearly blacked out again, but my brother steadied me with his strong arms and I was able to salute the Steward and the King. "My apologies, King Elessar. I…" my voice went softer from the humiliation I was suffering and I finished my sentence with all the dignity I could muster. "I forgot to breathe."

"Faramir, my friend, you should just tell the White Lady how you feel." Aragorn's voice held sincere concern for me, but I could not even begin to think of myself when my King had ventured all the way out here to see if I fared well. It was nothing for my brother, however. Boromir had met Gondor's lost King when he reached Imladris nearly two years ago. They had been through death and life together, and were as good of friends as the Dwarf and the Elf Legolas, if not better. Boromir rarely even addressed Aragorn as 'King' unless it was at a formal occasion, and Aragorn did not mind in the least.

I, however, had not come that intimate with my King – I was not so much a friend as I was an admirer and was content to call him 'King Elessar' like every other solider in our armies. 

At the King's words I bowed my head slightly and shrugged my shoulders. "I am afraid it is not that simple, King Elessar. You know that as well as I do, Boromir." I met my brother's eyes and he smiled at me; one of those devilishly arrogant grins. The King's guards were suddenly on the three of us like flies on honey and our King finally departed for the night. My brother, however, remained with me and we both ended up sprawled on the ground once more, looking into the sky as we had in the days of our youth.

"The strangest thing just happened…" I began to tell him of the beautiful Hobbit lass that had kissed me, but his deep voice drowned mine out.

"The White Lady was not happy when I last saw her, Faramir." Boromir turned his head sideways so he could look at me fully. His green eyes held sympathy and I resented that. Everyone, especially my brother, saw me still as a lovesick boy, not a solider stricken with the sight of the embodiment of love. "I would advise caution when you speak to her next."

"I will. Eowyn and I never quarrel long." 

"That is good to hear." He blew a piece of light hair from his eyes and looked back to the stars. "You know I grieved when Denethor left us, Faramir. You know that." His voice had become serious now, and I folded my hands behind my head, mirroring his position. I nodded.

"Aye, of course, Boromir. Why do you think I would doubt it?"

"Well…despite my grief for his death, one good thing has come of it." I knew his words made him feel much guilt, and all I could do was listen in silence. "If Denethor was alive today he would never allow me to consort with one such as Selma at all."

I felt a faint smile come onto my lips. Selma was a commoner that Boromir had met some years ago. She ran an inn and eating house on the outside of the city, and when Boromir had departed for Imladris they somehow became acquainted and when he returned he paid her more and more attention. I met her once before, I suppose, and thought she was quite respectable for someone of her class. But unlike my brother, I did see her as anything but a soul to talk with every now and then. 

The problem had been that in life Denethor had wanted the marriage between Boromir and Eowyn (though he never openly came out and told us, it was found in his diaries when my brother and I searched his books), and would have denied Boromir his inheritance if he were to wed the inn keeper. I had been surprised that my father would deny his beloved son _any_thing.

"You will come to the wedding?" 

I grinned this time, shooting him a practical glance. "I will, brother, but before I do it seems necessary for you to propose first."

Boromir snorted. "What an event that will be – the Steward wedding an inn keeper. I admit, Faramir, I fear the reaction of the people." I could say nothing to ease his discomfort, for I too at first had been cold to the idea of Selma and my brother being anything other than friends, but I had learned so much in the past two years that I found it hard to judge any person because of their social status. Daily did I still hear voices singing of the Halfling, no more than a simple citizen of the Shire, that had saved all of Middle Earth. In my heart, I knew class meant naught.

"You? Fear?" My teasing was all the comfort I could offer. "Well, I never – "

Boromir reached over to swat at me playfully. I saw a grin breaking on his stern face once more, and we lay there for sometime in silence, just watching the stars go by. Finally, he pulled heavily to his feet and dusted himself off.

"I must get to bed, Faramir, the ale and the hours of the day are finally getting to me." he extended a hand and pulled me up to meet his still proud gaze. "Will you meet us for breakfast tommorrow?"  
  


"Where shall we dine?" I asked, repressing a laugh. "Or needn't I ask?"

"You know me too well." He replied, pursing his lips and knitting his brow for a moment out of a long held habit. He seemed to be looking down my street at something, but I did not know what it was, nor could I possibly try to weasle my way into my brother's thoughts. 

Finally, Boromir turned to me and offered, "Why do you not bring the White Lady along? Would she mind dining outside the walls of nobility?"

"Of course not, but she may mind dining with me." I finished my sentence gravely and met his eyes; then we both broke down in peals of laughter. Before long, however, he wished me a good night and made for his own chambers. I watched him go as I stood, folding my still bare arms across my chest and lazily allowed the memories of our youth run about my thoughts. This happened all too often ever since I nearly lost him over a year ago; I would remember the times when he would try to teach me how to use a sword and I would end up staring at the wings of a butterfly, or when I would attempt to sing him an Elvish tale and he would end up trapping me in a head lock death grip until I promised that it would be the last one I would sing. 

With a smile on my lips I silently thanked the fair folk that had found my brother and saved his life, and brought him back to me. If ever I tried to picture myself standing alone while regarding the silent stars, the image would not come. Without him, I was nothing.


	2. II

**Chapter Two **

Eowyn loved to wander the streets of my city. I derived that from the fact that every morning during her visit, when I would rush to her chambers to be the first to greet her, the maidens would tell me she had already departed for her walk. It was never hard to spot her in the crowd – she was one of the few women with hair like the sun. If fire could be touched and was spun of silk than it would be Eowyn's hair, and my brother had taught me to clasp my hands behind my back whenever I felt an oncoming urge to run my fingers through it.

However, on that particular morning I could find no sign of her – I even went to the very center of the city on the east side of it to see if she had gone to buy flowers, but it turned out that not a soul had seen the White Lady pass through even the flower side of the market place. I folded my across my chest and drummed my gloved fingers against my bicep in wonder – where could she be? What a sight I must have been: sitting on my horse and looking very puzzled and absent in the middle of the street. I remember people stopping to stare at me, but I also remember not caring. 

The morning sun had risen over the dim horizon hours ago and was now in the middle of it's journey to the top of the sky. I felt it grow warm over me and squinted into the brightening blueness – it was already nine o'clock and I figured that I would just have to take the heat from Eowyn later about not inviting her to breakfast. I lightly chucked the reins and Tide, my horse and one of my dearest friends, began to trot four buildings over to the inn I was supposed to have been at an hour ago.

While tying my horse outside the building, however, the worn oak doors pushed open and the moment my gaze turned to her my heart stopped; not so much in fear as in awe and dumbstruck wonderment. Eowyn looked very angry, and unspeakably beautiful. I quickly finished the job and took a few steps back, holding my hands up as if to show I only wanted peace.

"Where have you been? Your brother and I have been waiting nearly an hour for you!" 

"Lady Eowyn, I – " My voice stuck in my throat as I sought for the words to defend myself. "I was searching for you all this while. Where were you?"

"With your brother, but I mentioned that." she replied with heat, and I watched her pale pink lips pull into what looked like snarl – a snarl only Eowyn could pull off and still manage to look like an elf maiden glorified in the light of a joyful sun. She released it, however, and before I really knew what was going on her fingers were curled into mine and she was pulling me into the diner. "And do _not_ even begin to imagine that I have forgotten our disagreement at the banquet last night." Her crisp glare was grilling my forehead. 

"Eowyn, you know you have all my apologies…I…" Once again I was making a fool of myself in front of her, and only our arrival at the counter where my brother waited saved my dignity. I took a seat and kept my eyes to the countertop before me while Boromir apologized to Eowyn for her having to go out and fetch me.

I murmured an apology also, but Eowyn only acknowledged Boromir's words. That morning was perhaps one of the worst I ever had in all my years. Eowyn and I never spoke one word to each other and the silence between us was bitter and cold. I had not known how much Eowyn had wanted me at the banquet, but now I knew. 

"Captain Faramir, would you like something to eat?" the new voice snapped my head up, and I was face to face with a woman that looked only a year or so older than Eowyn. Like most of the women in Minas Tirith her hair was raven black and her eyes were brown, but her skin was pale. Very pale. I smiled politely at her and shook my head.

"No, I am no longer hungry." It was true. I could not be hungry, not with my best friend angry at me. "But it is good to see you again, miss."

Selma smiled at me and turned to Boromir; it seemed he and Eowyn had already eaten. The three were engaged in conversation, but I did not hear what they were saying. I pretended to be busy, but it did not avail my guilty situation. The wall in front of me provided enough entertainment to give me an uncontrollable desire to thank Selma and begin to leave.

"Faramir, where are you going?" Boromir asked suddenly, turning on his stool as I headed for the door. Eowyn had her eyes on me as well, but they no longer held anger. I did not notice this in my longing to be away from all of them, and replied,

"A duel. The King invited me to skirmish with him." I refused to tear my eyes from my brother's suspicious gaze, and after a moment he nodded.

"Will we see you later?"

"That I do not know." I tilted my head and raised a brow. "It depends on how long you will be here, I suppose." There was an instant change in the Steward's eyes just then, and Selma discreetly moved to another customer to take down a request. Boromir and Selma had been making eyes at each other all morning long and I no longer wanted to be trapped between them, so I used an excuse (it was not a lie, I just was not due with the king for another two hours) and made my exit. 

On my way out I was stopped by Eowyn when she called my name, but it was not an angry charge like it had been last time. The White Lady had bowed her head, but seconds later looked at me fully, and I felt my heart lift when I saw her smile. One of her hands took mine and she once again averted her gaze shyly. I had noticed a change in Eowyn since the Dark Lord had been defeated, a change that I loved ever more every day. She, while still solemn and very dignified, was happier and openly displayed her joy.

"I do not wish to begin the day angry with you." she sighed, and her words were like a gentle breeze easing the burns of a scorching battle. My heart pounded as she playfully swung my hand back and forth between our bodies and then turned for a brief moment to face the oncoming wind. It sent her tresses of hair whirling around her like ribbons of…all right, I think you understand, I love her hair. Since she had one of my hands, it took all of my willpower to keep the other behind my back. Eowyn's eyes met mine once more. "You are forgiven for snubbing your Hobbit guests. At least in my eyes you are, if it means anything at all. And I am sorry for treating you so ill since then."

You see? My Eowyn is not the cold, priggish scolding wretch that I fear I have so wrongly portrayed her as. She never is and never was. Eowyn, in my world, was all that was pure and all that was good, and as soon as the words left her beautiful lips I seized both her hands in mine and clasped them closely to my chest. 

"Lady Eowyn, with those words the sun is shining brighter! The air is sweeter, the – "

"Faramir, please!" she interrupted, but did not take her hands back. I knew that if she tried I would have to let her, but as much as I thought about releasing her the more I wanted to trap her in my arms and never let her go. She leaned in and whispered, "People can hear you, you know!"

"Let them!" I cried, and called out to the center of the city and anyone else that could hear my voice, "Let walls crumble, let the sky fall! Eowyn has forgiven me!" By this time Eowyn had pulled away from me and was heading back in the diner with her hair hiding her face. I do not even remember moving, but somehow someway I was before her again and looking very doubtful, my eyes hiding from hers under the safe haven of my bangs. "Why do I feel as though I owe you another apology?"

"You never apologized in the first place." 

"Oh…" I cringed and bit my bottom lip, then removed my gloves. She watched me curiously, then let her eyes revolve up to the sky before I took her hands once more. "Then believe me when I say I am sorry for last night and…announcing my feelings before half of the kingdom earlier." Eowyn gave a short laugh and gave my hands a gentle squeeze in return. "Do you forgive me?"

"Of course I do." she replied as if my doubt was the silliest thing in this world. "You are the dearest friend I have, Faramir." Eowyn seemed to be thinking something over, and then offered, "If we cannot dine in the morning, what of midday? Will you be back from your meeting with Aragorn then?"  

"He would have to arrest me and chain me up in the deepest of our dungeons – "

"I hardly think Aragorn would resort to such great lengths to keep you away from your friends at dinner, Faramir." Eowyn cut me off again, and I obediently stopped my raving. "Shall I take it as a yes, then?"

"Yes."

With that she pulled away and reentered the inn with nothing more than a smile and left me standing on the streets of Minas Tirith alone. My feet dragged the rest of my body up to the window, and leaned my forehead against the glass; and I watched her laugh and I watched her smile and I was awed. I was put into a trance while watching her eyes sparkle with joy, and I knew it. I knew I should have just walked away but I could not. I could never. 

I eventually did, of course, but I had spent so much time staring at my brother's company through the window that not only had I drawn a crowd, I had nearly made myself late for my meeting with the King. If I were to describe every boring step of the journey there I am afraid you would lose interest in this tale, so I will skip ahead to when our fencing match.

I will admit it. Aragorn, King of Gondor, is a superior warrior than I.  Now that was something my brother would never admit to, but I have always been a bit more humble and tend to think before acting (this is, of course, is an alien concept to my elder brother). I would thrust my sword toward an unguarded region of his person and seconds later he could smack it away and I would be blocking another blow. Usually, though my King still bests me, I am far better than I was doing on this morning.

My mind was a tangle of wonders and thoughts and questions, not to mention I was looking forward to meeting Eowyn for lunch. Aragorn seemed to notice my constant glancing at the timepiece on the wall as I fought, and grinned after making me look like a six year old girl with a twig for a weapon. 

"Faramir, why do I get the feeling I am unintentionally torturing you?"

"Torturing me?" I repeated stupidly, and tried to concentrate on his meaning for a moment, but he answered before I ever really saw through it.

"Your eyes keep falling to the time." Aragorn looked over his shoulder. "Are you waiting for something?"

"Oh…yes, the White Lady and I have planned to dine together at midday." Aragorn nodded knowingly. He glanced at the clock once more and said to me with a grin, 

"That is an hour off."

"Aye, I know."

"I'll make a deal with you." The king raised both eyebrows and readied his sword, flashing a smile that struck fear in even me. "If you give me your best in these next five minutes I will let you leave early from this prison of waiting." I nodded, thankfully, and charged him; my blade met his and for once I had him defending. Our swords scraped and clashed and snapped at each other, and our movements quickened. My heart pounded in my chest by the end of the five minutes, and finally Aragorn moved his sword in a circle and pushed mine to the side so fast and so hard that it left my hand and clamored to the stone floor.  I stumbled back a pace.

The queen entered and I remember scrambling to pick up my weapon before the Fair Arwen, too, saw me standing there like a wounded deer. I do not think I have mentioned this, but the queen is not from Gondor or even Rohan. Arwen is an Elf, daughter to Elrond Halfelven and the Evenstar of her people. I can see why Aragorn married her. Though her beauty does not compare to Eowyn's in my opinion, it is still other worldly and unique. When her pale eyes found mine I know I blushed like a ten year old boy and eventually found the courage to smile at her and nod.

"Lady Arwen." My voice shook and I bowed deeply in respect for her, and she murmured a greeting. Her eyes fell on Aragorn but after a minute she found a seat in one of the oak chairs and folded her legs, waiting patiently for us to finish. 

Aragorn gave her a smile – a smile I only saw on his face when she entered, and said to me, "You are free to go, Faramir. I enjoyed our match." he held a hand out, and I was hesitant to take it as casually as my brother did. After hooking our palms together with our thumbs and each receiving a firm shake, I bowed to the two of them and began to retreat. "Goodbye, Faramir." he called, and I turned back with an enormous grin on my face.

"Goodbye, Aragorn. Lady Arwen!" As I left I heard my King turn to his wife and ask softly, almost wistfully, 

"Do you remember what it was like to be that young and in love?"  But I do not remember Arwen replying. ****


	3. III

**Chapter Three**

"She just appeared from nowhere? Just appeared right above you?" Eowyn narrowed her eyes at the thin, sharp air as she considered this, then turned to ask me, "For the small amount of time you _did_ attend the banquet, exactly how much ale did you consume?"

I quirked a brow and responded, "None, Eowyn! And this was no dream, it was real. I know it was." I had failed to tell Eowyn that the girl I had seen had been a hobbit (and I also neglected silly details such as the kissing part) because I felt no need to spoil this moment with, as I mentioned, silly details. "She was there, and then she was gone. Just like that."

"I see." Eowyn wrapped her arms around herself and looked chilled, and I noticed that she had forgotten her cloak so I very stupidly removed mine and draped it about her shoulders. It was just like me to forget when a lady was in need, but my recoveries were always speedy enough for her not _really_ to notice my idiocy, but Eowyn always has an eye for detail. "Well, Faramir, you have treated me to a dinner fit for Queen Arwen herself, but now you are leading me around the empty streets of your city." Her eyes met mine, and in the darkness and the silver light of the moon they appeared cerulean. "Why?"

I swallowed nervously and folded my hands behind my back, then promptly answered with the most charming smile I could muster, "I want to show you something."

Eowyn brightened with mock suspicion. "What is it?"

"You will see, Lady Eowyn." I made sure to give her another smile, and she returned it but continued to look mistrusting. Eowyn was probably wondering why I was heading toward my humble abode instead of walking her back to her suite. 

After what felt like floating down a river of pure joy with Eowyn beside me we came to the front of my home, where grass still grew fruitfully around the building, and I dropped to the ground, lying down as I had last night when I had the encounter with the hobbit girl. Eowyn, never being what she called a 'ninny' just followed my example and stretched out on my right, crossing her ankles and looking up to the vast deep blue that was the sky with me. I turned to gaze at her profile, and I swear I saw a smile bring serenity to her chaotic beauty. 

"You brought me here to watch the sky?"

I smiled brilliantly and forced my gaze back to the lesser of the two beauties. "You are beginning to sound like my brother, Eowyn." She laughed at that, and the sound made my heart tremor in my chest and beat three times as hard. 

Boromir always told me it had to be unhealthy to be this in love, but Boromir was Boromir and simply stating that fact gives one all the explanation necessary. "But just look at the stars, Lady, and try to appreciate them for what they are." I pointed to the sky to guide her pale eyes, making trails with my forefinger on the lifts and drops of the stars and their shapes. "Do you see that one? It shines three times as bright as the others, but if it were alone if would simply be a stain in the blue sky. All the smaller, glittering stars help it to shine at it's best."

"They are very beautiful." She replied simply, and I once again felt my eyes move themselves to her milky white face. "There are times people dismiss beauty as a frailty."

"Aye." I agreed with her, but my words came out slowly and dumbly as though I were in a trance. "People can be witless and shallow, Eowyn. All beauty has it's weakness and all beauty has it's strength." Somehow her eyes fell on mine this time, and Eowyn graced me with a slow smile.

"It does." 

In that moment I do not know what exactly it was that came over me, but it was so over powering that I bolted to a sitting position and pulled her up with me, prepared to spill my feelings at her feet and throw my heart at her mercy. I made sure to inhale deeply before speaking, but at that moment something the sound of powerful hoofs hitting the stones of the street cut my voice in two and my courage drained as her attention left my face and focused on the new comer. Eomer. 

I twisted so that I could see him without really standing up, though I should have with him being King of the Mark. He had two escorts with him and I assumed they had been searching for Eowyn for a mighty long while, because Eomer looked weary. He had certainly grown since I had last seen him (aside from the banquet) and his beard was shorter while his golden braid was longer. I gave my best smile to an old friend.

"Eomer! Are you well?" I inquired as the woman I dreamt of every night moved away from me to mount the extra horse they had brought along. Just like Eomer, always thinking ahead. He nodded at me and smiled back, and I saw that the worry had drained from his eyes. "Forgive me for stealing your dear sister." I felt somewhat guilty for not telling anyone where I was taking her, and I am sure it reflected in my eyes.

"Not at all, not at all, Faramir!" Eomer replied, showing all of his white teeth in a wide grin. "Will we have the pleasure of your company tomorrow? And your brother?"

"I certainly hope so." I returned the smile, but moved over to Eowyn's horse, taking her hand in mine and placing a soft kiss on her knuckles. "Until tomorrow, then."

"Goodbye, Faramir." She smiled at me and gave a short nod of her head. "And goodnight." As they departed I stood in the street and watched, folding my arms around myself and remembering she still had my cloak about her smooth shoulders and it only made me lift higher in happiness. If I slept that night, I do not remember it. I only dreamed. But the next morning was hell brought to Middle Earth in the form of a lantern on a bed. 

--- --- ---

"Captain Faramir, Faramir!" A voice as well as a pounding on the other side of my door wrenched me from my dreams, and I sat up straight in the sheets and blankets. I stammered something like 'Enter' or 'Come in' or 'Stop pillaging my sleep, peasant!' and the door opened. The servant, one who I recognized to be my brother's, scrambled in and knelt humbly at my bedside. "My lord, it is the Steward. His apartment has been burned into ash and there is nothing left of it!" 

"What?" I heard what he had said, I just did not believe it. How could my brother's living quarters be burned to nothing? Was I still dreaming? I slapped myself hard across the face and I am sure I left a red mark (not to mention the servant was staring at me) but it thankfully enough it was true: I was indeed awake. "Is my brother all right?"

"Yes, he is. He was not present when it happened, he was elswhere in the city, I believe." The servant informed me, and I ordered him to fetch my clothing. I had to go to my brother's aid immediately (he would probably be living with me for the next few days) and offer my support.

I pulled a simple white tunic on, then a vest for warmth and pants, and minutes later I had taken my horse from the stables and was on my way. The scene I had arrived upon was in no way tranquil; people were wailing (probably the ones that lost their homes) and other people were yelling, and shouting either curses or cries of despair. 

When I found my brother, he was doing something that I could only expect: explaining to a few peasants how lucky he was to have brought his sword with him instead of leaving it inside his apartment to be forever ruined and lost. I smiled and approached, and when he saw me he returned it. 

"Faramir!"

"What happened here, Boromir?" I asked, desperate for details and trying to look past all the crowding people to the still burning structure. A few of the guards from the Justice House were looking up at it and nodding, but at the sound of my voice they turned to me immediately.

"My lord, we have information from witnesses that bring us to believe this was not an accident but a direct attempt on the Steward's life." 

I laughed in disbelief. "But who would want to kill my brother?"

Boromir snorted. "Who would bother trying?" The Steward of Gondor began explaining to the justice guards what he had seen, where he had been, all the details, while I wandered aimlessly around the scene with my arms folded about my chest for warmth. The night air was cool and made my skin prickle up, but I did not give into the temptation to head back to my warm apartment. 

"Faramir!" It was a voice I knew all too well, but one that did not seem at all joyful. It was Eowyn, striding towards me with her riding habit draped over her thin form and resisting the wind of the early morning hours as best it could. "Faramir, how could you?"

I was confused and my jaw dropped with my track of mind. "How could I what, dear Eowyn?" She did not at all accept my kind words, instead she came right up to me with blazing eyes and cheeks tinged pink in anger and emotion. "Eowyn, what is it?"

"They say _you_ started the fire!" 

My hands involuntarily threw themselves over my head. "_Me_?! I did nothing, Eowyn!"

She was quiet a moment as she seemed to be scanning me, as though my outer appearance would tell her the truth. Finally, she said, "I trust you, Faramir. And I'm sorry." She turned to gaze at the blackened building, then to my brother, who seemed to be gazing absently at the only possessions he had left; his sword and his saddled horse. "I assumed the worst, but rumors are just rumors. Whoever did start the fire, however, must have had something against the one of you."

"I do not see what." I answered, and my eyes wandered to the top of her head where the pale starlight reflected off her golden hair, so my voice must have slowed as I stared. I earned a glance from her, and then continued in a somewhat more intelligent tone, "My brother tries to stay in favor with all of the White City, and has been their champion for many years."

"I know." Eowyn replied quietly, as confused as I was over this attack on my brother, and I felt her move a little closer to me, probably drawn to the heat I was giving off that she was most likely responsible for. "I am very sorry for him, however."

"Yes. He will probably be living with me for the next month."

"But you will not mind at all, will you?" She asked me with a genuine smile, and it was more a statement than a question; her pale eyes never found mine. "You have always been the ideal brother and always will."

"Thank you, dear, dear Eowyn." I began, losing myself. "Your words always – "

"It was a compliment, Faramir, I did not just give you the crown of Gondor so please do not act as though I have." Her words were bemused but happy, despite the events that had just happened an hour ago, and they certainly brightened my dull, very early morning. 

"I apologize, Eowyn." I replied evenly, failing to hide my smile away. The wee hours continued, but I do not remember once taking my eyes off of her pale face. She did not look at me, did not even appear to see me, but I was still content to be standing with her in the middle of the street in a crowd of disgruntled citizens.

I know that sounds a little strange, but it was true. I felt the most complete when Eowyn was next to me. My brother and I rode home after that, him speaking to me of his sword being very lucky not to have been in the apartment when it burned, but I still could not stop thinking of Eowyn's words.

Who could possibly dislike me enough to wish to destroy my reputation, I would never know, but I knew I would soon find out. 

Oh yes, and despite how much of the 'ideal brother' Eowyn thought me to be, I still made Boromir sleep on the floor. 


	4. IV

# Chapter Four

The next morning, when the sun had fully made it's way into the sky, I woke up with a headache that I could feel in all the walls of my skull. Perhaps it had been the smell of the smoke several hours before that sent the dreadful pounding into my temples, but whatever it was it was driving me mad.The morning after the fire consisted of my brother and I sitting around and drinking strange herbs he had boiled together to rid oursevles of this unexpected sickness.

Boromir looked at me with bleary eyes. "Thank you for the place to sleep."

"You are very welcome, Boromir, what are brothers for?"

"The floor is mighty comfortable."

I smiled at him despite my headache and sipped my brew. "Good, I'm glad."

Boromir stood and rubbed his eyes wearily, yawning and then draining his mug. He stretched a few times and then said, "I'm going to find a taylor and buy new clothes…then I will probably go find a new place to live. Would you like to join me?"

I shook my head. "No…I have business to take care of in the city today."

"Well then, I suppose I'll see you at dinner." Boromir nodded at me and left the room, and I finished off the contents of my own mug. I was a bit tired from the night before, and as I pulled myself to my feet I nearly fell over and blacked out. Blinking absurdly, I shot a glance over to my stove where the pot lay idle with a few herbs next to it – and an empty bottle of ale. 

"Oh, Boromir.." I groaned, momentarily wanting to strangle my brother for possibly giving me the worst hangover I've had since the celebration of the Dark One's downfall. I shook my head to try and clear the cobwebs and clouds, grabbed my cape and stumbled out the door. I had already eaten and had decided to give Eowyn a morning of her own for once, so I had considerably nothing to do. I decided, once I had made it to the wide, airy streets of my city, to take a seat on a wooden bench right outside the blacksmith's shop and watch the people walk by.

While trying to decide whether a certain cloud formation resembled an ax or the mate of the boot I had recently lost, a set of small fingers tapped my shoulder and a familiar voice ended the debate. 

"Peregrin Took at your service, sir." I looked to my left and saw a Hobbit with wild curly hair the hue of sand and dirt mixed together (being as this was Peregrin Took, I have no doubt that sand and dirt contributed to the color) holding a hand out and grinning madly. "Hello, Faramir!"

"Peregrin Took!" I met the halfling in a rough embrace, and we when we pulled apart we shared that mad grin. "Pippin, where have you been? I meant to visit you the morning after the banquet…"

"Eh, word is you've been with Lady Eowyn the whole time." Pippin winked at me and touseled my hair as if I were the halfling and he were the man. "Still head over heels in love with her, Faramir?" I felt my face heat up with a childish embarrassment and tucked my chin, muttering,

"I, er, well…yes."

"Oh, Faramir, everyone in Minas Tirith knows you love her!" Pippin laughed and gripped the coarse material on my shoulder with pale little fingers. "Everyone in Rohan, too, for that matter. When we stopped there Ingrid the servant woman pulls me aside and askes me, 'Is the Captain Faramir over the Lady Eowyn yet?'' No, not yet. Never, I think.' I says in return. Everyone knows, Faramir!"

"Not everyone!" I protested in vain, but Pippin only sat next to me on the bench that was too high for him, swinging his booted feet over the edge. 

"Yes, I suppose Eowyn doesn't know yet." he looked about us as if expecting her to suddenly pop up and find out the secrete everyone else already knew, and then folded his hands behind his head. "But she's the only exception. How sad a tale…a beautiful woman like Eowyn having caught the eye of Gondor's grand captain and she doesn't even know it!"

I sighed and assumed a similar position to the Took, and I was falling quickly into another jumble of thoughts. "I do love her, Pippin. So, so dearly."

"I know how you feel." Pippin replied a bit dully, and he ran his hands through his hair in thought. His voice lacked the cheerfulness it held seconds earlier, and I turned to see if he looked unhappy. He looked distant and very thoughtful. "But at least Eowyn still considers you a friend."

My eyebrow arched. "Pippin?"

The hobbit became rigid with something I rarely saw in one of his kind. "Oh…I had a bit of a fight with Diamond. She is, or was, a very dear friend of mine and even more, but now she is in love with a man and she told me she hates me. She told me, Faramir."

At first I stupidly wondered, "What man? Do you know who?" My little friend now looked very depressed. 

"It was after the banquet." he choked out after a moment, and I felt something cold arise in my stomach and travel down my spine in realization. I remained deathly silent as he continued, "She started crying for some silly reason and…and left. Then she returned the next morning and told me some blackguard had kissed her and she was in love with him! She didn't actually call him a blackguard, but…can you believe that?"

My throat was dry, but I hestiantly asked, "And…and you do not know who it was?"

"No." Pippin shook his head, and with every dulled and saddened glance he gave me my heart sank lower and lower and I lost the nerve to tell him that…that I was the culprit. "All I was told is that he is a soldier. Of course she fell for a soldier. Soldier's are dashing, unlike Peregrin Took."

"Nay, Pippin, you are the bravest among your kind!" I protested, and momentarily forgot my guilt. Should I have told him? No, not in this moment of anguish. My head began to sway a little. Boromir and his stupid brews!

"Thank you, Faramir.." he inhaled softly and then turned to look at me fully. "Where is your brother? I want to talk with him…it's been far too long since I've seen him anf actually talked." 

Relieved to change the subject, I inquired, "Did you hear? His apartment burned to the ground last night." Pippin paled and a wary silence grew between us. Quietly, he asked,

"It burned down? All of it?" after receiving a nod from me in confirmation, his next question was more relaxed. "Did they find who was responsible?"

"No." I replied, and pulled myself to my feet, taking a moment to stretch in the cool morning air. "But let us go and speak with him…I'm sure he would be glad to see you." I reached down to steady myself on the bench. I would give him a talking to all right…about what and what not to put in herbal beverages.

"Aye." Pippin responded and followed me. We walked in silence until, after a moment, "How is the Lady Eowyn?"

"Good. Very good." I replied, and could not help but smile. I thought we might walk to Selma's…Boromir was bound to be there. 

"She's so spontaneous…not like other women."

"Aye."

"You think you can predict her but you can't."

I smiled wider and faced forward, letting Pippin feed me these wonderful thoughts. "Aye."

"Faramir?"

Lost in my thoughts, and in Boromir's brew I'm sure, I said, "Yes?"

"Do you…do you want to impress her enough to marry her?"

Like a blow to the ribs my awareness returned to me…well, not all my awareness. As I look back, I realize this conversation with the sticky little hobbit should never have even taken place if my senses had been working that morning. "More than anything…what are you getting at?"

"I…well…" Pippin looked up at me and squinted in reaction to the sun above our heads. "I once…read a book, yes, I read a book where a prince wanted so desperately to woo the woman he loved that he would ignite things for her. She fell in love with him, of course – "

I laughed loudly. "You dream, Pippin. Lady Eowyn would not only never speak to me again, but she would probably flog me herself."

"No, Faramir, that's where you're wrong!" he cried, and stopped in the middle of the street to seize the material around my knees and shaking me. "Don't you see it? The idea of a man so in love that he is willing to burn down his brother's apartment will sweep her off her feet in all of it's passion and meaning! She'll see you in a new light!"

"Yes, the dim light of a prison cell." I murmmured, but my thoughts were treading in dangerous waters of ideas. My jaw gaped, and without consent of my mind, and my mouth stammered, "D-do you think so?" I shook my head, then bent my back to lean down and grip his little shoulders. "You. Are. Mad."

"No I'm not!" Pippin challenged, his voice rising with pitch and excitement, and he seized my face in both little hands, pulling me down further. "It's love!" 

The last two words had been shouted, and a silence fell around us. I slid my eyes to the side, seeing people staring at the two of us and probably wondering what we were doing. We must have looked ridiculous the way we quickly pulled apart and uncomfortably folded our arms about our chests and cleared our throats before turning back to our walk. 

"But it's true, Faramir…" Pippin continued quietly, looking forward and pointed. And serious. "You can wait around starry eyed for the next two years and one day go to Rohan and propose…" he trailed off and shrugged his shoulders. "…and maybe you'll get to meet her husband. Or," he looked at me this time, into my eyes with a look that frightened my near drunken state. "Or you can sweep her off her feet right now and marry her and be happy!"

His words his me like a turkey leg to the nose on a cold day (ask Boromir if you really want to know the intimate details of that tale) and I made a noise that almost sounded like a whimper. Pippin was right. Eowyn was kind and beautiful and the most wonderful woman I had ever laid eyes on. I knew I was not the only one to know that; men would give their right eye to marry a woman like my Eowyn. I would lose her. 

As a last fighting resort, I said feebly, "I will be put into prison for at least five years if I turn myself in for this fire I did not even start." 

"She knows you know that Faramir! And knowing that and _still_ doing it…Faramir, that is real love! You're telling her that you're willing to go to prison for her, and you can take the word of a Took on that." he pocketed his hands and blew a curly lock of hair from his eyes, then looked back up at me. "Would you take that chance for Eowyn?"

It was at that moment that all my doubts and senses shattered and I could no longer lie to myself. Of course I would! I love Eowyn more than anything and five years in a jail cell meant nothing in a lifetime of happiness. I sucked my breath in a nodded. "Yes. I would. A hundred times!"

Pippin seemed strangely happy as well. "Then you'll do it!" 

"This must be Boromir's brew…I feel crazy for doing this, but yes, I will." I replied, smiling and feeling shakey. Pippin grasped my hand with both of his and shook it firmly, and I instantly felt better.

"Good, good! Invite me to the wedding!" 

I only smiled at him and set my gaze onto the stone of the street. Eowyn would know I loved her, and in return she would have to love me. I could feel it in my fingers and all the way in the toes of my boots. A blast of cold air ran past me and my little friend, and my skin prickled up in goosebumps as I swayed. My head felt light. 


	5. V

**Chapter Five**

I remember taking young Pippin to my brother and feeling nothing strange or suspicous about my current situation. Of course, by this time I was intoxicated to the marrow of my bones and somewhere in that blurry state of swaying bliss I was convinced to go home and get some sleep (no need for the men to see their captain completely done in and swaying). I don't think that, in the midst of all our laughter, I was able to scold my brother for his earlier miscalculations in his now infamous brew, but as I lay my head down on my pillow I assured myself I would get the chance, if only to stop thinking it. 

By the time I was fully capable of opening my eyes without seeing a haze it was past four o'clock in the afternoon. I groaned in agony of my pounding head and dragged myself up to lean against the headboard of my bed while rubbing my eyes and trying to regather the events prior to my crashing into sleep. 

When I came to the part about turning myself in for the fire and getting five years in jail as well as earning Eowyn's hate for stretch of my sentence, I would have laughed if I did not want to slap myself for being such a drunken fool. That may have been the Took's choice fashion of telling the lady how I felt, but I preferred a nice, simple, _peaceful_ proposal. 

I stood and dressed, not exactly remembering how I had managed to undress, and for the second time that day headed for my door. My list of things to do for that afternoon consisted of telling Pippin I could never consent to such a foolish plan, to tell Eowyn how much I cared for her, to stop acting like a ten year old boy, and to voice my opinion on Boromir's uncanny ability to make one drunk. 

My brother was not in the guest suite of the Hobbits, as I had surmised, so I finally decided the only place he might be at this time was at the Inn. 

Upon arriving at the scene half an hour later, out of breath and even a bit frusterated, I felt a strange twirk of that feeling that tells one that 'something's not right', due to the lack of any kind of human or hobbit or even elven life around the premises. A further search led me to a bench right outside the empty and desolate Inn, and wind whistled as it assaulted the tops of the buildings. 

Boromir and Pippin sat silently side-by-side, watching leaves twirl on the paved ground before them in little dancing pairs with the coming rushes of wind. I made no effort to keep quiet as I marched to the bench and firmly placed both hands on the back of it. A gust of rain-scented air swept the leaves away from their line of vision, I suppose, because Pippin finally turned to look at me. I summoned up my firmest voice and said,

"Pippin, I must apologize for my earlier actions." I glanced briefly at the silent Boromir, then back to the attentive Hobbit. "I was not thinking clearly and there is no reasonable or rational way for the plan we discussed earlier to work. It is quite impossible." There, I had said it. I smiled in self-satisfaction and repressed a sigh of relief. I could be firm with any entity on this planet, but being firm with a Halfling was just difficult.

Pippin just put a finger to his lips and nodded in the direction of my idle brother. I moved around the bench and sat in the space next to him, and let him sit in silence for a moment more. A few leaves and gusts of chilled air later, I stated softly, "Something troubles you." As if joined with my mind, Pippin nodded at me and gave Boromir's leg a pat, murmuring a few inaudible words of comfort before retreating. Where Pippin went off to I have _no_ recollection, but if there's something I do remember about that cold autumn morning is the conversation with Boromir, for I had never seen him quite like this. 

He did not answer me, and I leaned closer so we sat shoulder to shoulder. "Boromir."

"Selma set the fire."

"Selma?"

"Aye."

"That…that's impossible!" my voice sounded very alarmed, even to my own ears, and I shook my head. "Boromir, it cannot be, tell me everything."

"There is not much to tell. This morning after you left she became very cold, and then closed the Inn. She took her horse down to the House of Justice and admitted to starting the fire." he stared blankly forward and I pitched my head in my hands miserably. What was happening, why was everyone suddenly going mad?

"But why? Why would Selma do such a thing?"

"That I do not know." he replied in a voice that was bitter and flooded me with memories of our late father in his last years. I stood. 

"I am going to talk with her – "

"She will not see or speak to anyone." Boromir muttered, looking at me with the same eyes Peregrin Took had given me hours earlier. "Do not trouble yourself, it is pointless."

"Nevertheless I must try." I began to turn away, but took a moment to pause and ask as the question suddenly dawned on me, "She will not speak to you?"

"She will not see me."

"I am going to sort this out Boromir." I vowed, clenching gloved fists in growing exasperation. Something was not right here, and there had to be more to the story...Selma was no criminal! At times, I admit, I was not terribly fond of her, but she would never do a thing like this. I said to him softly, "Now pull yourself together. I hate to see you like this." Boromir smiled at me and reached out to squeeze my arm affectionately. 

"Faramir, you are my brother as well as my best friend, but you will always be a silly dreamer." He exhaled sharply. "Tis just a passing thing."

I smiled back at him, thankful to see the flicker of happiness return for even just a moment, and then turned away from him. 

On my way to find the quickest route to the House of Justice, I ran into Pippin. He held a few warm biscuits in one hand and a chicken leg in the other, and was swallowing the large bites of meat he took almost whole.  "Is Boromir all right?" he asked me after gulping a bite of biscut down.

"Yes, but maybe sharing some of your loot would cheer him up a bit, don't you think?" I suggested innocently, knowing I had hit the Hobbit's weak point. Pippin paused in his chewing, then looked at me suspiciously from under an arched eyebrow.

"Why don't I just take him to get his own?"

I grinned to myself and gave his shoulder a pat. "Of course, Pippin." As I began to stride away, he asked in turn, "Where are you off to?"

"The House of Justice. I plan to sort this mess out."

"And turn yourself in?"

I frowned. "As I mentioned earlier, when I agreed to that foolhardy plan I had not been fully sober. So no. Go talk to Boromir."

"Where is he?" Pippin bit off more tender meat from the leg in his hand and scanned the area. "Still on the bench."

"Aye, right where I left him." 

Pippin scampered off with his little arms full of still steaming food, and I withheld my smile. Hobbits never changed, not like Men did. With the thought in my mind I continued to face the cold. It seemed to get colder with every step as I neared the House of Justice.

--- --- ---

The guards at the House of Justice gave me immediate admittance, but it took a bit of finagling to see a captive that refused to be seen or spoken to. Finally they brought her into one of the rarely used interrogation rooms, where we both sat at a small table in the very center of it.

I wasted no time. "Selma, what are you doing here?"

Selma narrowed her eyes at me in very clear annoyance, but replied respectfully, "For burning down the Steward's living quarters, Captain." I silently cursed and averted my eyes. Now she was just playing hard and I was not good at being firm with women. I exhaled sharply, trying to think of a way to be frank with her. Before I had a chance to speak again, she muttered, "Why else would I be here?"

Then it hit me. I could prove her innocent! I held up a finger right in front of her face and stood. "Stay here. I'll return shortly." She looked even more annoyed, but nodded and sat back. I opened the large oak door and moved out, locking it behind me. To the guard outside, I asked in a very soft whisper,

"Do you know how this fire began?"

"Yes, sir." 

"How?" I nodded my head as he explained to me in the window of a few moments that a rock had been thrown through the eastern window that supposedly knocking down the lantern that sat in front of it. When I mentioned that it may have been an accident, he shook his head and replied,

"With respect, sir, one would have to have been blind to not have seen the lantern. And the hit was very precise." I bit my lip at this in concentration, swimming silently in my thoughts a moment, then thanked him and moved back into the room. I quickly took my seat once more.

"Selma?"

"Captain?"

I smiled at her. "How did you start this fire?" Clear alarm chased across the startled, pretty features. Her mouth dropped open for a moment, then she closed it and attempted to look unabashed by my question. I stated it again. "Well? If you started it you must know how you did it."

"My crime is none of your concern." she snapped, and then immediately bit her lip, and continued humbly, "I apologize, Captain. But I…don't remember how it began."

"You do not remember or you do not know?" I felt a warm, victorious sensation creep up my arms and into my chest with every word that spilled from my lips and brought even more alarm into her eyes. The moment was spoiled, however, when she began to cry. My heart sank and I could swear on my life that I _felt_ my face go pale. It was uncomfortable to be in a room with a crying woman, knowing I was the reason she was crying. I hesitantly moved to nudge one of her hands with my forefinger. "Selma? Why did you turn yourself in?"

"I have nowhere else to go." she sobbed feebly, fruitlessly wiping away tears. "My business is doing terribly…I cannot pay for it anymore and I'll be out on the street. At least in here it's warm and I'm kept fed and clothed." 

"What about Boromir?"

Her head snapped up, and she croaked, "What about him?"

"He loves you! Did you not know that? You could marry him, Selma!" I exclaimed, not putting both hands over hers. "There are other alternatives to putting yourself among the lowest in society. I'll convince him to ask you right away, and get you out of here!"

"He already asked me."

I paused. Then, "And you said yes, am I right?"

"No." she sniffled, cupping her cheek in her hand. "No, I turned him down.." 

"But he loves you, Selma, I will explain everything, and…"  
"I cannot marry the Steward of Gondor!" she hissed at me, and pushed stray strands of dark hair from her face. "I have no birthright. I am just a peasant that owned an Inn she could not pay for. He would be insane to marry me…the reaction the people would have…" Selma let her face drop into her hands. "I could never take such madness."

"Maybe that is what love is." I replied. "Maybe love is being mad, love is making sacrifices and irrational decisions…deciding what is truly important, Selma." I reached over and patted her tear-damp hand lightly, allowing my words to sink in. As much as I had try to ignore it, it was right. "Would you marry him if he asked you again?"

I saw a flicker of hesitation in her eyes. "I suppose I would…I do not know, Faramir…sometimes love is avoiding irrational decisions and helping one despite the…" she looked down. "…the hurt it may cause. I will consider your words, Captain Faramir." 

I leaned over to plant a firm kiss on her forehead, just happy to have that bit of hope, and I stood to moved out of the room.  Telling the guards I was finished with Selma, I went to go relay the news to my brother when I saw four very confused guards placing him in a cell of his own. 

My jaw dropped and I stood there, gaping like an idiot, before I actually convinced my legs to move and trotted up to the scene.

"Captain." the guards saluted me, but I turned to my brother and asked bluntly,

"What are you doing in there?"

Boromir shrugged. "I turned myself in."

I felt ready to pull my hair out. "Why?!"

My brother regarded me silently, and replied in a low voice, "I know what I am doing." 

"This is not the place for the Steward of Gondor!" I snapped, snatching the keys up from the guard and opening the cell. I yanked my brother out, sparing no force or pain in my effort. I was very frusterated at this point and slapping Boromir would have been _very_ satisfying. "Now do you know how the fire started?" He paused a moment, and a variation of the expression that had crossed Selma's face earlier crossed his. I shook my head and snorted in disgust that would have done my late father proud, turning to the guards. "From this moment on do _not_ arrest anyone that does not know of how the fire started."

"Aye, sir."

"You forget who is the higher rank, Faramir?" My brother interrupted us. "I know how the fire started."


	6. VI

**Chapter Six**  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  
I stood silently in the hall of the House of Justic, leaning against the wall with my arms folded and my brother next to me. We did not speak for a long while, and the guards shuffled off to go release Selma. When they escorted her from the halls she paused and gave Boromir a saddened glance, but he did not seem to see her, even as she vanished from sight. My brother must have felt like a fool now, because he was heavily quiet - heavily quiet is the only way I know how to describe the air when my brother goes silent. He does not enjoy speaking when he feels foolish, so he just sort of glares at objects that may be surrounding him.  
  
I had to speak. I feared if I did not my brother would spontaneously combust. "Selma is released, Boromir, you do not have to turn yourself in."  
  
"Nay, I do not have to, I want to." And now he was just being stubborn. Wonderful.  
  
"There is no reason anymore, Boromir." My voice was now as harsh as his, which is very rare for myself…to some I have been known as the thinker rather than the one with the temper. Boromir was being stubborn...perhaps the Took had gotten to him as well, but Gondor's Steward could not go to jail! It was unheard of! I set my foot down firmly and looked my brother in the eye. "If you do not back down then I will turn myself in for this fire. I am the number one suspect, anyway."  
  
"I will not allow that, little brother." he growled at me, eyes flashing.  
  
"Would the King of Gondor serving a five year sentence for burning down his Steward's quarters be something to write about?" We both spun on our heels in surprise to see Aragorn, having left his guards in the hall, striding up to us with a look that could not be described as angry or amused.it was more confused than anything. "Boromir, if you turn yourself in then Faramir is going to turn himself in...and if Faramir does so, then I will turn myself in."  
  
"Are you mad, Aragorn?" Boromir blurted, and I inwardly cringed. I will again mention that my brother's relationship with the King differs somewhat from mine, and I am not used to it as of yet. Then my brother buried his hands in his hair and exhaled sharply from his nose, shaking his head. "This should not be happening."  
  
"No, it should not." I snapped, giving my brother a well deserved and much needed smack on his shoulder. "What in Gondor gave you the idea to turn yourself in?!" Boromir seemed a bit embarrassed to admit what he was to say next, but Aragorn and I leaned forward a bit in anticipation. "Well?"  
  
"The Took. Silly ideas from a silly hobbit."  
  
"Pippin, I knew it!" I grumbled, absently running a hand through my hair. "Since when does he play Gondor's Matchmaker?"  
  
"Pippin?" Aragorn looked to the both of us in sheer curiosity. "He came to you, as well?"  
  
I nodded. "He seems to be going from battle ground to battle ground…first he came to me and suggested I turn myself in to prove my love to Eowyn, and then I suppose he went to Boromir when I declined."  
  
"He did."  
  
Aragorn stroked his chin thoughtfully, making a 'hmm' noise and concentrating on the far wall. Finally he spoke, "Aye, he came to me as well.said something about Arwen being unhappy and, like he said to you, I should spend five years in a jail cell to prove I loved her. It would make a good love story, but I told him I would have to find other ways to please my Lady."  
  
I wondered what Aragorn meant by the Queen being 'unhappy' but did not have the courage to ask. But Boromir did. "You think she is unhappy, Aragorn?"  
  
Something in the King's eyes changed, and he averted his eyes to the side, and absently reached out to touch the bars of the empty cell. "It is hard to tell.she denies any unhappiness but I see it in her eyes. She is quiet more often than not, and worries me." he trailed off and broke into a very small smile. "I do not mean to bother you with these things.but I implore the both of you not to turn yourselves in."  
  
The chief of the House of Justice entered, bowing to the King respectfully and tucking his chin as he spoke to the three of us. "My Lords, if I may speak?"  
  
"You may, what is it?"  
  
"I do not believe that either of you started the fire, and if you were to admit you did none in Gondor would believe you." the chief glanced behind him into the hall where Aragorn's guards watched the door, and then continued, "Why do we not just go by Captain Faramir's method and not arrest anyone that does not know how the fire was started?"  
  
"Then.how did." Boromir began as if something just dawned on him, then he adressed the chief, "Did any.Halflings inquire as to how the fire was started?"  
  
"Nay, no Halflings come by here, Lord."  
  
Boromir folded his arms and frowned, looking at me and the King. "Peregrin knew how the fire started.down the last detail. I was foolish not to have realized it before."  
  
"Are you saying.Pippin started the fire?" Aragorn seemed just as taken aback as I was, and Boromir nodded. Aragorn, for the first time in a long time, looked utterly baffled. "But why would...Pippin want to burn down your apartment, Boromir? You and he are the best of friends."  
  
Then it all hit me. "Oh.good lord.no." I looked my King square in the eye. "Diamond of Long Cleeve."  
  
Aragorn frowned and for some reason or another glanced behind him, then back at me, jabbing a thumb in the general direction of the Guest House four miles or so away. "You mean that little lass he brought with me?"  
  
"Aye."  
  
This time Boromir asked me, "What of her? What does she have to do with the fire?"  
  
I covered my eyes with one of my hands and groaned at the memories of that night. A few moments passed, and I finally spoke up, "You know of the night at the banquet…how Eowyn was angry with me because I did not stay the entire time.well I had left early to look at the stars and I swear I was minding my own business when out of nowhere came Diamond of Long Cleeve." I paused for dramatic emphasis…not intentionally, just because I was trying to gather my thoughts. "She, umm, sort of forced a kiss on me."  
  
"You were over powered...?" My brother asked in hestitant disbelief, brow raised and mouth threatening to give way to one of those stupid smirks he has. "By a halfling?"  
  
"Let him finish, Boromir, if I remember you've been overpowered by the Took and the Brandybuck on more than one occasion." Aragorn reminded my brother with a smirk much like Boromir's, yet something I do not usually see on the face of my King. However, ignoring my brother's muttered response, he asked me to continue.  
  
"Yes, well I had been drinking a bit that night." I told my brother with mock anger in my defense, then said, "She was sad.I assume she and Pippin got into a bit of an argument. She must have kissed me to get back at him and then told him the story of how 'she fell in love with a soldier'."  
  
"And he somehow knows that the soldier is you?" Boromir asked skeptically, folding his arms and regarding me with his brow raised even higher than before. "Then…why did he burn down my quarters?"  
  
"He must have been misinformed…when I told him that your apartment had been burned to the ground he double checked that it was yours." I shrugged my shoulders and shoved my hands into my pockets, feeling very foolish even though I had just mapped out the entire crime. "And then he tried to get the three of us to admit to it. Everything points to him."  
  
"Aye. Poor Pippin." Aragorn gave a low whistle, and a few of his guards sharply turned their heads to see if he was just whistling or if someone had just shoved a sword in his gullet and caused a whistling sensation. Seeing he was alright they turned back to their posts. "I confess, I do not wish to arrest him. He may have done wrong, but he is a dear friend of mine."  
  
"Mine as well." I said, and my brother agreed. "We should allow him to confess in time."  
  
"Peregrin Took has made fools of us." Boromir said with a wry grin, turning to Aragorn and myself. "Let us trap him in a confession.we could have you turn yourself in, Aragorn, and only the four of us: the guard, you, Faramir and myself would know of it. Pippin would be so strung out with guilt he would confess immediately."  
  
Aragorn smiled but shook his head at my brother. "It is a brilliant plan, but you forget that I have Gondor to rule."  
  
"It would not be for long.a day at the very most." I put in to help my brother, who was looking very selfsatisfied at the moment, leaning against the wall with his hands behind his head as if the world had just dropped at his feet with praise. "And we would not let all of Gondor know! Just those close to us. Pippin would not wait more than an hour to come to your aid."  
  
"It is tempting." Aragorn admitted, this time a devious smile forming on his lips. "Very tempting…very well, let it be done. If anything it will teach the Took that he can trust us even if he is angry at us." The King turned to the chief, who seemed surprised himself that the King was acting on the little plan. Aragorn spoke quietly to him for a moment or two, and my brother excused himself. I had an idea of where he was going, but I had a destination of my own. A nice refreshing bath in the springs of what remained of Minas Tirith's wilderness. All right, it is not wilderness at all, just a place that is not always inhabited by other people. I seeked a chance to truly ponder my brother's plan.  
  
  


to be continued…


	7. VII

**Seven**

If there is one thing I, Faramir son of the late Denethor II, have learned it is that if you do not want to be found then someone is definitely going to find you. Especially when you are stripped to the skin and wading in waist-deep water. That was my fate, and I should have seen it coming but I had been too deep in thought to even fathom that the plan would immediately go into effect and Eowyn would spontaneously ride out to find me. Of course she would. 

I had just found the bottom of the spring and taken a seat in it; the water lightly grazed the bottom of my chin, and my palms came to rest slowly on two flat rocks; and I closed my eyes to let the warm sun grace my bare skin. It felt wonderful, but I had drifted off, and the sound of hooves beating the ground escaped my hearing until the horse Eowyn rode whistled shrilly, and my eyes snapped back open. The White Lady dismounted in one smooth motion.

"Faramir, I _know_ you have had something to do with this, so do not deny it and tell me all of the truth!" she stormed over the edge of the spring and the wind swept by so quickly that her dress stuck to her left side and displayed the concave of her waist and the swell of her hip, and I could not help but notice, and in doing so forgot my current situation and stood abrupty.

"Something to do with what?"

Eowyn shrieked and quickly shot her head to the side and clamped her eyes shut, her cheeks flushing pink and her exquisite moonpale hands hiding her eyes. I looked down and felt heat pricked down my neck and my back in embarrassment. 

"Oh."

"Faramir, you brute!"

"I…forgot, M'Lady!"

"Forgot you were naked?!"

"Well…yes!"

"Most men wear trousers when they swim!" she snapped, still averting her eyes. "Even Boromir does!"

I turned white with sudden jealously. "You have watched my brother swim in his trousers?!"

"No, I…" Eowyn glared at me without actually looking at me, an interesting feat, and then said with calm anger, "We need to talk."

I muttered an apology and I got down into the water, wading to the shore to grab my clothes. I shoved forward, but just as my luck would have it they were out of my reach by a foot or two. I strained my arm, but despite my efforts I could not snare my clothing with even my finger tips without showing the lady, once again, my lower regions. 

"Eh…Eowyn, could you…?" I gestured helplessly to the clothing, and without turning around she gracelessly kicked my garnments at me with one of her white-shoed feet. I made sure she was not looking and as soon as I had climbed up out of the water I pulled my trousers on. I muttered something about the fact that it was safe for her to turn around, and she did, still looking embarrassed at what she had seen. It could not be anything compared to my humiliation! Never the less I pulled my tunic on in silence.

"I…as I was saying, Faramir," Eowyn cleared her throat, cheeks still pink and pale eyes blinking as if she had stared into the brightness of the sun – she did not entirely focus on me, as if worried my clothes would magically fall off. "The King has been arrested for this fire that everyone seems to think _you_ started!"

I had never lied before this – well, I am sure I had as a child, to my mother or father after having broken a vase or a chair, claiming it was all my brother's fault, but aside from that I did not  - and to lie to Eowyn was something I never wanted to do. It was not wise, but I had to tell her the truth. "The King turned himself in, Lady," I said quietly, almost guiltily, and slung my outer garnments over my shoulder, impolitely walking past her. "And I did not start the fire."

Eowyn spun to face my back in anger. "Faramir, if you not then _who_? I…I want to believe you, but they say even you were in there today turning yourself in and the King turned himself in for _you_!"

"That is rubbish, would he do such a thing for me, with all of his burdens to deal with as it stands?"

"Aragorn would." she said, and her jaw was set firm, her eyes hard on me. "He would and you know it. Aragorn is good, and cares for his friends…and he holds you in such high esteem, you and your brother both." I felt a stab of hurt hit me, and quailed a bit. I knew Eowyn had once loved Aragorn, and though he was now married to an Elven princess, she probably still suffered from never having him. I shook my head and cleared my throat to ease the tightness.

"Eowyn, I…I did not start the fire." I told her, and came closer to her, letting the clothing over my left shoulder drop heavily to the ground behind me as I gripped her gently by the tops of her arms. "I would never do such a thing to my dear brother, you know this, and never would I do anything to let the King go to jail."

"Yet there he sits."

I swallowed. "Peregrin Took started the fire."

Eowyn's eyes widened, then narrowed, and she opened her mouth as if to say something and her eyes widened again. "Pippin Took? Dear, sweet Pippin Took, Meriadoc's cousin…?! He started the – _he started the fire_?!" I could not help but smile at my friend's reaction, but she did not appreciate it. "Faramir, you jest!"

"I do not." I assured her, lightly running my thumbs over the material of her dress sleeves as I spoke. "Aragorn knows this, and does not wish to forcefully arrest Pippin. He hopes that this little scheme will get Pippin to peacefully turn himself in."

Lady Eowyn stared at me for sometime, not believing me, and by the look in her eyes I could tell she wanted to and did not want to all at once. Finally she brought her slender hands up to her golden head and pushed her hair from her face. She laughed. "T-that is why is has turned himself in? I, well…I would not have gotten so angry at you, why is it you did not tell me before this?"

"We thought to keep it between the four of us – Boromir, Aragorn, myself and the guard." I looked over my shoulder absently to the green fields and the distant shapes of buildings and the city. The citadel and the White Tower could be seen from where we stood together, beneath the endless blue sky. I turned back to her. "But now that you know, you must also keep it a secrete until all is settled. Will you do that for me, my friend?"

Eowyn laughed breathlessly, and it sparkled in the amber of her eyes. "I feel so silly, yes, of course I will." Then she did something that I will never forget, and at that moment had made my heart pound mercilessly in the cage of my chest to be free: she cupped the back of my head in her palm, stood on the tips of her toes and kissed me, very lightly, on my brow. "For you." When she pulled away I stood there, my eyes wide and my jaw slack like an idiot that had just stumbled upon a treasure. 

I could not speak, and I was breathless. Breathless, indeed, for I had no care to breathe. Breathing was stupid, simple, boring and paled in comparison to this wonderful feeling! Unfortunately, breathing is a necessity and if one forgets to breathe they promptly pass out. I only vaguely remember hitting the ground, and hearing a distant sweet voice.

"Faramir!"

--- --- ---

What happened after this, I will not tell, but it did involve me trying to convince Eowyn that the cold water had gotten to my head. To my surprise, she believed me. I am told, however, that while I walked and talked with my beloved, as we lead her horse back into the city, that someone else had heard of the King's arrest.

The queen. 

Arwen Evenstar, a frail and strong, beautiful and mysterious, kind and loving elven princess, made her way proudly through the crowded streets of Minas Tirith with her silken cloak about her, wavering in the wind. Her usual maidens followed her, now and then smiling at her with that deep respect they all held – everyone knew the story of how Arwen had given up the immortal destiny of her people to seek a new destiny: giving her love to a mortal man.

I suppose in these past weeks, so I have been told, that Arwen had seemed unhappy, discontented and very quiet. Aragorn paid dearly for her vague discontenment emotionally, though he tried not to show it or bring such things into view of even his closest friends, we could see it in his eyes. He worried for the love of his wife. 

Arwen pressed on silently, dark hair blazing behind her as a banner of rich silks and scarves with the wind. She made her way up the stone steps of the House of Justice, and her maidens held the doors open while the guards stood in surprise and bowed respectfully. 

"My Queen Lady, it is an honor to see you," the captain guard said shakily, keeping his head bowed until the doors were closed and she had taken the cloak off. "I can only assume you have come to speak with the King Elessar, who sits in the jail cell in the back? Perhaps you will talk him out of this…?"

"I intend to remove him from this place, yes." she answered confidently, in a voice as soft as music and as gentle as a blanket on a sleeping child. Arwen smiled at him and took a seat delicately on one of the chairs near the captain's large wooden desk, folding her hands over her lap. "I will stay in his place." 

The guard looked at her, deadpanned. His brows were so low they did not even bother to move up, and he looked at her not as a queen but as another one of these crazy people all strangely enthusiastic to volunteer responsibility for the decimation of the Steward's home. After a moment he loosened up, and came to his knees before her. "My Queen, my Lady Arwen…I do not know what has gotten into Minas Tirith. I do not. The Steward's quarters were burned into ash, and then an inn keeper admits to it. Then the Steward admits to it. Then his brother wishes to admit to it, and finally – the last straw, Madam Queen – the King admits to starting the fire." he stooped a bit to look into the depths of her midnight eyes. "Do you not see something wrong in this picture?"

"There is something wrong here." she said softly. "And until this wrong is righted, I will take my husband's place."

The guard's shoulders sagged in bewilderment (I knew how he felt!). "Very well then. Come with me, My Queen." The guard stood and politely extended a hand to escort her to the long hall, and then into the cell chambers where Aragorn sat on a bench at the very end of it, lacing his boots up. Aragorn looked up.

"Arwen, what are you doing here?" he asked her kindly, and stood to come to the bars. Aragorn gripped them in curled fists and leaned his forhead to them, smiling at his wife. "Have you come to keep me company, love?"

"She comes to replace you, my King." the guard said firmly, removing a large key from his leather-bound belt and jamming it into the lock. He opened the door and Aragorn stared at Arwen in disbelief. "You may leave…not as if we actually had the authority to hold you, because this entire situation is insane, but you may leave nonetheless." the guard looked at his kind, and then bowed his head. "Forgive my ranting, my King."

"May I speak with my wife?" Aragorn said to the guard, and he nodded, moving out of the hall. The King turned to the Queen and set his large hands on her shoulders gently. "Arwen, why have you come here? This is not the place for you! Go back to our home and enjoy the sun and the sky!" Aragorn kissed her brow, but Arwen covered his hands with her own.

"This is not the place for Gondor's king, either, my lord," she whispered. "Aragorn." 

Aragorn's brows lifted slowly and slightly, and he moved his face back a bit from hers. "You have come here to replace me…for what reason? It is illogical!" then his voice lowered. "Are you so unhappy? Is this the meaning of your silence, and your downcast stares, and the whistfullness on your face?"

Arwen regarded him quietly. "You think I do not love you."

Aragorn exhaled softly, touching the side of her face with hesitant fingers. "I do not doubt, but…hope that you still hold that love you gave to me so many years ago, dearest Arwen." The queen took his hand once more, and replied,

"You think I do not love you, but you know that I will always love you." she brought his hands and clutched them tightly to her chest. "I will never be unhappy, or discontent when I share this life with you! I have accepted this fate, this doom of men, with open arms because I love you!" Arwen kissed Aragorn. "I love you, and that will never fade, dearest!"

Aragorn could not help but smile, could not leave the joy concleaed in his chest. "Then why…have you been so quiet lately, Arwen?" 

Arwen smiled, her blue eyes shining in the reflection of his, and her dark hair spilling behind her back as a curtain. She reached up to kiss him once more, and then whispered, "I am with child."

Together the King and Queen exited the House of Justice, happy, excited, and most of all content. A felicitous glow lingered around them. 

But the plan was foiled, and I was back to square one. When I saw Aragorn again, later that day, I found him in his long dining hall walking around the table and twirling his sword around in his hand expertly, a grin on his face and his eyes shining in a way I had only seen once before. I bowed respectfully, but when he walked toward me asked,

"Why are you not in jail, my King? Has Peregrin confessed?"

Aragorn did not answer my question. Instead he gripped my arms and said breathlessly, "She loves me!"

"I beg your pardon?"

He turned back to me after having turned away. "The stewards quarters have been burned to the ground and the culprit is running loose, but my wife loves me!" he grabbed for my elbows again and pulled me close, so close I felt like the guards might arrest me for assault on the King. "Arwen is with child, Faramir! With child!"

I laughed merrily, embracing my King back in all of his joy. "Congradulations!" I took his hand in both of mine and shook it roughly. "My King, how splendid! Who knows so far?"

"Only you, Arwen and myself." he said. "Faramir, this is a day I will never forget!" He laughed and hugged me again.

--- --- ---

Peregrin Took had business of his own to attend to. Once again I must apologize to the respective characters in this story should I leave anything out. This is only an account of what my friends have told me on how these events played out, and I do my best to relay it to you. 

He paced before the steps of the guest house where Diamond and Rosie had been staying, hands shoved into the pockets of his blue jacket and his curly head looking to the porch. The wind stung his eyes when it hit the tears that pricked them, and he did not look up to meet it. Pippin summoned up his courage and brought his gaze to the door. Diamond was inside that building, probably still crying over what he had done to her at the banquet, or simpering over that soldier that kissed her.

The hobbit ran a sleeve across his eyes and shook his head, marching boldly up the steps and to the door. Pippin was glad Aragorn and Arwen had both left the House of Justice as free people, so he would not have to confess himself now – he had been preparing to go confess when he heard the news. He knocked on the door, and it cracked when a tall older woman with silver hair peered at him.

"Gradlyn, is Diamond here?"

"Aye, young Peregrin Took. Come inside – "

"Gradlyn, no, don't let him in here!" the voice was all too familiar, and the servant Gradlyn moved to the side as Diamond came to look through the crack in the large door. Her eyes sparked in anger when she saw him, but she asked diplomatically, "Why have you come?"

"To say…" Pippin mumbled, hoping tears would not surface again. "To say I-I'm sorry for my behavior. Please, Diamond, do not be angry with me anymore!"

"I don't hold anything against you, Pippin Took," she said, and her cheeks tinged pink as he spoke. "But I have told you I found another."

"A soldier?!" he spat, this time indignant and angry. "A simple soldier of the big people? They're clumsy and blundering and foolish! How could you choose a soldier over a Took?!"

"Because," she answered evenly. "This is no soldier. He is no blundering, clumsy fool. He is Gondor's Captain."

Pippin paled, and must have felt hollow, empty and betrayed by me. He swallowed, and confirmed, meekly, "Faramir?"

"Yes." she pulled back. "Faramir. Goodbye, Peregrin Took. I will see you when we leave." And Diamond of Long Cleeve shut the door, her pretty face unseen by Peregrin for the next two days. He stood there, hands in his pockets and his eyes on the planks of the porch. His mouth was dry, and he repeated my name slowly.

Though it had not been my fault, I still felt, somewhere deep down, that I had betrayed one of my dearest friends. 


	8. VIII

a/n: Sorry…lost track of time. School an' all…been sick, too. Once again, thank you all for your wonderful reviews!

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**Chapter Eight**

Of course Eowyn felt for him. The Lady Eowyn I have known since our days in the Houses of Healing is caring, and considerate and would never forget the Halflings that saved her life and gave her comfort on Pelennor Fields and in the dark hours she was confined to the Houses of Healing; she loves them dearly, and when Peregrin Took met her on his way out of the guesthouse it all fell apart. 

His eyes were filled with painful tears, and he dragged the sleeve of his favorite green jacket across them to clear his vision as he made his way down the steps, but Pippin did not see the figure before him going up to her own room. Pippin smacked into Eowyn's knees and fell back onto the steps. 

"Peregrin Took, I am so sorry!" she cried, and fell to her knees before him, taking his face in her hands to examine any injuries she may have caused. Pippin blinked several times and squinted at her, then let out a long sigh and looked away. Eowyn knitted her brows. "Peregrin, are you crying?"

"Why her when he has you?" the hobbit murmured the words he should have taken into consideration, and looked into the pale beauty of my Lady's face. "I am alright, Lady Eowyn. Are you?"

"Of course I am all right, it was I who smacked into you!" Eowyn narrowed her eyes as if somehow she could peer into Pippin's watery gaze and read it without him speaking, but found nothing, so she inquired gently once more, "Peregrin why are you crying?"

The hobbit sniffed loudly and dragged a sleeve across his eyes, averting his gaze as he mumbled, "Do you really want to hear it? It's just a tragic tale featuring the misfortunes of a Took."

"Tell me and perhaps it will ease your heart," she encouraged him, and let her hands rest on his shoulders; covered in green material of his jacket. "Tell me what it is…have I done something wrong? Is Frodo ill? Did Sam undercook something – "

"Diamond." 

Eowyn watched Pippin's face crumbled again, and his inability to speak told her all she needed to know. She brought her gaze to the steps for a moment while Pippin shuddered in a few silent sobs, and then looked back up to him. "It cannot be for good, Peregrin, however severe this quarrel is you may be having. Diamond is sweet and adores you – "

"No," he muttered bitterly, glancing over his shoulder. Pippin waited a long while before he said his next words, and it was probably because of his own disbelief. However, it was the truth, to some point. "She…she tells me she fell in love with another. A soldier that kissed her."

Eowyn laughed and pulled his pale, tear streaked face to meet hers. "Oh, Peregrin, it cannot be more than angry words in a quarrel. Did she give you a name?" Pippin stared at her blankly, and when he did not respond Eowyn continued in a light voice, "You see? No name was given, that simply means this soldier does not exist – "

"Faramir."

Eowyn frowned. "Faramir? What of him…?"

"It is Faramir, Lady Eowyn." Pippin sighed in resignation and pulled away from her soft hands, trotting down the stairs lightly on his bare feet. "He stole Diamond from me and now I'll never have her back." When he reached the bottom of the stairs he turned back to the shocked Eowyn, whose words remained trapped in her throat, and said quietly, "I'm sorry to tell you…because you and he are such good friends." Pippin shrugged. "But sometimes you can't trust even your friends."

"Surely there is a mistake…"

"Ask him." Pippin said simply, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Ask Faramir what happened the night of the banquet. He will tell you."  The hobbit braced himself against a gust of strong wind that swept through the city and plowed around the guesthouse, sending Eowyn's abundant gold hair whipping behind her. She said nothing as she watched his little form disappear behind the corner of the stops and buildings around their staying quarters, and Eowyn lowered herself to sit on the edge of the step.

It made no sense, until Eowyn could recall the night before my brother's quarters were burned to the ground when I had spoken of the girl. The White Lady of Rohan is compassionate, and she has always looked for the best in people, but the thought of a friend turning upon a friend was unacceptable. Eowyn let her chin rest on her hands and thought of Pippin.

--- --- ---

Apparently rumor travels like wind in a tunnel around my city, especially when it concerns the well being of one of the most famous figures in all of our history. The 'Prince of the Halflings' he was once known, and since then his title has continued to climb, as does his favor with all the people of Minas Tirith.

I noticed something different when I was dining with the King, the Queen and the Steward -- the servants seemed to be giving me filthy looks. Angry looks. I tried not to notice, but earlier in the meal when a lady servant accidentally spilled hot spiced wine into my lap I became suspicious (in between my hisses and repressed curses of pain. I would have preferred scalding liquid anywhere else than there). 

"Have either of you thought of a name?" Boromir asked when we had finished eating, and Aragorn slipped an arm around Arwen's thin shoulders, grinning in delight. "Shall I take that as a yes?"

"Eldarion, we thought to be fitting for his lineage and what blood runs in his veins." The King lightly kissed his queen's temple and settled back into his chair, still smiling absently and quietly tapping his fork against his plate in deep thought. "What more could I ask for?"

I had not seen my King happier, not at his wedding, not at his crowning, not at the very edge of victory itself, and I could not help but let a grin escape again. The chef of the King's house entered humbly with his palms pressed together and his head bowed. Aragorn ushered him to the table.

"That was a fantastic feast," he complimented, looking to his wife, my brother and myself as he spoke. "Was it not?"

"You are singularly talented, my good man," Arwen said softly, and the chef bowed at the waist with his ears turning bright pink at the tips – I assumed his reaction was much like mine whenever the Queen graced me with a smile, and only felt pity for him. How could any man stand such beauty?

"My Lady," he acknowledged as he bowed, and looked from one of us to the other. "May I inquire as to why the King of the Mark and the White Lady have not joined you? And where are the wee Halflings, My lords and Lady? I do miss their company and enthusiasm."

"Oh, the King of the Mark sends his apologies for not coming this eve," I said good naturedly as I looked up to the chef from my seat, relaxing against the neatly polished wood beneath me. "It seems the Lady Eowyn is ill this night, and Eomer King stayed behind to keep her company."

"Ah. Well send my condolences, won't you, Captain?" There was nothing friendly in the chef's tone, but I seemed to be the only one picking it up. He regarded me quietly a moment while my brother and the King chattered endlessly – something about a sword that had been welded at a ninety degree angle…for some reason this was hilarious -, and something in his eyes changed. "Have you heard from the Halflings? Are they ill as well?"

"I would imagine so." I replied. "But I do not entirely know."

"I thought _you_ would know where the King's Halfling guests would be most of all." The Chef said. "Seeing as how you are such good friends with the youngest perian, Mr. Took." He bowed respectfully to all of us and departed, leaving me very confused. Boromir and Aragorn continued laughing over the sword incident while I stroked my chin in thought – what was the meaning of all this subtle hostility I was sensing? I could not have even pulled a random clue from the night sky at that point.

"Captain Faramir, do you know how the Lady Eowyn fares?" Arwen asked me from somewhere, and her voice goaded me back from my thoughts. I looked at her directly, and she seemed surprised – I seldom did that. "I have not heard from anyone first hand."

"I am as ignorant as you, my queen. I have not seen her since yesterday." 

"Will you see her later tonight?"

"I intend to pay her a visit after dinner, Lady Arwen." I replied distantly, only meeting her eyes when the chef and his workers had finally left. "Is there a message you would like me to give to her?"

"Yes, tell her I hope she is well soon, and that I hope to see her when she is. I miss our conversations." Arwen smiled and swept her dark tresses from her moon pale features; the deep blue of her eyes searched my face and saw something that the others did not. "Is something troubling you, Faramir?"

I paused and stared at her stupidly, my voice hovering in my throat as the servants filtered in to refill our goblets. I finally smiled at her as the servant girl poured the wine. "No, M'Lady – " I was cut off by another liquid, this time freezing cold wine, splattering into my lap and soaking my pants on the same spot I spoke of earlier. I yelped again, helplessly trying to move away from the spill, despite the impossibility of it. The girl began apologizing profusely.

"My Lord, forgive me! I – I suppose I'm nervous, I could barely hold the bottle…" she set the pitcher down and stood by goblet up again, daring to look me in the eyes and inquire softly, "How fares Master Peregrin, Captain? Do you know?"

"What?!" I was utterly confused and had no time to respond to her slightly disrespectful tone, and when Boromir took the towel and began mopping up the moisture on my lap I smacked his hand away. "Brother, please, do not trouble yourself."

Aragorn ignored the girls bustling around me to clean the mess up and leaned forward with his brows knit in curiosity. "Is that not twice in one night, Faramir?" 

"I…I…" My concentration at the moment was on getting the cold wetness away from myself, so I think Aragorn forgave my stupid stammering. "Yes, I think so, yes…" 

"That will be all, thank you." Arwen said to the servants as they began to scurry away once more, bowing out respectfully. The queen turned to her husband and bent her head as she whispered, "Their fingers seem to become very slick when serving your Captain."

"So I have noticed." Aragorn reached for his goblet and drained the last of his wine. After a moment of silent thought he said to my brother, "I supposed all of this means you will be moving back into the Citadel?"

"I intend to. There is less chance of another ash pile." Boromir drummed his fingers against the wood surface of the table with one hand, and stroked his beard with the other like he always did when slightly agitated      with something that tormented the back of his mind. "Still. Still, I rather enjoyed living in the city. It pulled my mind from…things…" He shrugged and grinned at the King. "You know, pressures and such."

"Well if you would rather set up another home other than the Citadel it would be no trouble." Aragorn told him, gesturing with his hand. "Of course there would have to be guards posted all hours round…we cannot have a repeat –"

"No, thank you, I think my father's house will do." Boromir straightened in his chair and I saw the glint of still lingering grief in his eyes. Subtly I reached over and squeezed his arm in shielded comfort and affection, but he did not acknowledge me. "I cannot avoid my title forever." 

"The choice is yours, my friend."

In the moments following the small conversation the Steward and the King held, Arwen stood to leave, delicately moving her lavender skirts and drapes of material from the way of her feet. "Gentlemen, I must retire." She said softly, and smiled at us so we almost forgot to politely stand at her departure. 

"Have we completely bored you, dearest?" Aragorn asked her in a gentle tone, and Arwen laughed merrily at his doubt; she sent a noticeable glow of mirth around our King, and his eyes lit up to send me an image of what he must have been upon first discovering who was to be the love of his life. Oh, I sympathized with him. 

"No, not at all, my lords, I am weary. It has been a long and confusing two days." Arwen's hair strayed behind her as she began to depart, and once again mesmerized Aragorn into silence until she turned back abruptly, yet gracefully, and inquired, "Oh – Lord Boromir, did you ever catch the one responsible for the ruin of your home?"

Boromir shook his head and planted one hand at his side and the other he used to run through his hair wearily, forgetting he was in the presence of a Lady and losing his respectful stance. "No, my lady, he continues to run free in our streets. I have yet to catch him." 

Arwen nodded at this, and turned to Aragorn with her brows lifted in silent query – probably as to why he had been sitting in a jail cell the day before because she had not yet received an answer. Aragorn tenderly kissed her forehead and stooped to look into her eyes. "I promise to explain all of this to you, Arwen. I promise you that."

Arwen glanced over at Boromir with a knowing shade in her gaze, and she even smiled. "I am beginning to make sense of it, my Lord. But I will await that explanation." She bid us all goodnight one last time before leaving the dining hall as gracefully and silently as water gliding over stones. Aragorn cracked a wide smile as he watched her go, and looked back to the two.

"Tell me, is it hazardous to one's health to have known a woman for most their life, married her and still be sick with love?" Aragorn asked us helplessly, and while Boromir nodded vigorously, I shook my head and folded my arms across my chest. The King ignored my brother and directed his eyes at me. "You do not think so, Faramir?"

"What could be healthier?"

Boromir snorted and lightly punched my shoulder. "Do not pay mind to him, Aragorn, he is in a similar place as you and so far he has lost consciousness several times because of it. With all due respect," Boromir gave a wry smile and fingered the hilt of his sword at his hip. "You need a good duel to put your mind back on proper course."

I looked at my brother in astonishment. "You wore your sword to dinner with a lady present? Boromir!" 

He looked at me quizzically, and gestured to my own belt. "You did as well." I glanced at my hip, saw he was right, and made an 'o' with my mouth, while Aragorn cleared his throat and fruitlessly positioned his hands on Anduril's hilt as if to conceal it with just his hands. 

"Well," Aragorn said after a moment, probably feeling as foolish as we did. "My captains, we are officially rude." 

"Aye."

"Aye." 

"We are."

Boromir seemed satisfied with this and waved for Aragorn and myself to follow him. "Shall we?" The Steward caught the King glancing over his shoulder to where his queen had retired for the night, and I saw him arch a brow in sympathy. To save his friend from having to turn him down, Boromir said, "On second thought, I am truly done in, Aragorn." The King looked at Boromir and grinned.

"Tomorrow, then?"

Boromir bowed low at the waist and even saluted. "We will be there, my King."

Aragorn reached out and shook my brother's hand firmly, and then mine. "Goodnight, Steward. Captain." He smiled at us and swiftly turned on his heel, exiting the hall. Boromir released the hilt of his sword and instead grabbed my arm to guide me out of the room with that affectionately arrogant authority he has always held over my head. 

"It is good to see him back in high spirits," He told me. "But our plan fell through. The Took runs loose." 

"Aye, he does." We began to cross the lengthy lawn of the Citadel's court and Boromir seemed restless beside me, muttering to himself and continuing to curl his fingers around the hilt of his blade over and over again – something was troubling him. "Boromir."

"Hmm."

"What is the matter?"

Boromir stopped walking and turned to look me over, skeptically – I once again felt like the ten year old being challenged by the fifteen year old Boromir; just beginning to fill out with lanky frame and wielding the same sword he held now. "The matter?"

"Yes."

Boromir slid his sword from its sheath and hit me affectionately on the side of the head with it. "I think your faith in my ability to still beat you in a duel is lacking somewhat." I laughed wryly and folded my arms across my chest, my eyes following the tip of his weapon as he trailed it around in the air. 

"Well…your new position requires you to sit a lot."

"Faramir…" 

"And you are not getting younger, that is for certain…"

"The line, Faramir, you are crossing it." 

I arched a brow and then frowned, taking a few steps closer to peer levelly at my brother's hairline, and then released a horrified gasp. "Boromir! A…a grey hair!" That was it. He immediately swung his sword upward in an arch and I drew my own blade in time to counter his attack. Well, I admit it; Boromir certainly had lost none of his skill, strength and valor (and I had made the bit up about the grey hair…if Boromir was graying, then Eowyn was a wench). He chopped away at my blade and sliced and slashed so mercilessly that if he had not been my brother I might have feared him. 

When at first I was able to take one offensive chance and slap the flat of his blade with mine he was knocked back a few paces, and I had the upper hand – for approximately five seconds before he regained control and bore down on me as if I were Sauron himself. My sword was crashed and clanked this way and that, until finally Boromir shoved my blade down so hard that I lost my footing and fell flat on my back; sword still in hand, but my attempt to seem flawless was foiled. 

The tip of his sword lingered at my throat, tickling my flesh and daring me to continue. Boromir's voice was deep and taunting. "Come Faramir. Surrender." I threw my head back down into the earth to avoid the point of his weapon and brought my own up just as quickly, sending a rain of sparks as my sword met his down upon the grass where I had lay. Boromir was caught off guard and his blade left his bare fingers – unfortunately in all of my folly I had lost a grip on my attack and my weapon also went flying several feet away.

We stared at one another in a silent stand off, both weaponless, and both having been beat down by my attack. Then I did something very stupid. I curled myself off of the grassy lawn and wrapped my arms around Boromir's knees in a great bear hug and brought us both to the ground in a heap of flailing arms and legs and indignant shouts. 

"Faramir are you mad?" Boromir demanded of his little brother – I now had him pinned firmly down in the soft earth with my knees on his thighs and my hands on his elbows; grinning like an idiot. It was rare that I had the chance of nailing my brother in one of our skirmishes, and I was very proud of myself, but Boromir did not let it last long. My brother, just before I began my victory speech, seized me by the arms and thrust to the left, making a neat flip and completely switching our positions. 

"That was cheating," I said sourly, struggling beneath the weight of my brother to at least free an arm. "I had you – "

"And now I have you," Boromir commented, and I wanted to slap that smirk off of his face. "Cheating or no, you fell off your guard," He added dangerously to infuriate me further, "Little brother."

"Oh, get off."

"Only if you surrender."

"You are a big fool, now get off of me." I growled, aware that I was not going to get out of this one without declaring Boromir a superior fighter than I, but I did not want to give up so easily. "Boromir -!"

"Oh, all right," Boromir shifted his weight so that he could hold me down without using all of his effort and looked up pointedly. "I am just going to let you get away with that little brawl you tried to pick with me earlier, do you think?"

I smirked back, and sealed my fate. "You cannot accept the truth, brother?"

Boromir lifted his hand from my left arm, and I drew my newly freed appendage to my body as if it were my child – I knew I would need it very soon. "The truth? Would you like to repeat the truth, Faramir?" Boromir immediately ploughed his hand into my ribcage and started tickling me mercilessly. I struggled but made no sound, trying to bat his hand away with my free arm. "Come, Faramir, I cannot hear you…"

"You are getting too old for this!" I snarled in defiance, loving every minute of agitating my brother but reeling back in horrific, unbearable pain from his biting fingers. "Come, Boromir, can you do no better?!?" Finally I fell victim to the laughter and yells that wanted so desperately to escape me, and as I bellowed my defiance Boromir only laughed maniacally and tickled me harder.  I suppose Boromir just gave up after a while because I do not remember ever telling him what he wanted to hear, and he knew I was too stubborn to admit defeat. 

So there we lay, side by side on the lawn of the Citadel's court with our eyes on the stars and our chests heaving. I think we had consumed the wine too generously, but I could be wrong. Boromir stretched his arms behind his head and exhaled sharply, adding to the sound of our heavy breathing quite arrogantly, "I won."

"Hardly."

"Still holding those doubts?"

"Stop being absurd, Boromir," I scoffed. "I have never doubted _you_, Boromir."

"Save once."

I exhaled softly, pulling my battered body up to a sitting position – I did not have the energy to look him in the eyes at this point. "You know I did not doubt you even then, Boromir." He came up beside me and let his elbows rest on his knees, and when I dared to look at him he only stared forward. The wind brushed past us swiftly and held a late thickness, and I saw Boromir frown, and then turn to look at me.

"We should go."

"Aye we should." I heaved myself to my feet, ignoring my still tender ribs, and extended a hand. When he slapped it away and got up himself I could only laugh at him, which fixed his face into one of those scowls he always seems to be wearing, but I knew my brother well enough to know that one could not judge his mood by his facial expression. Boromir's arm found my shoulders, and I walked him back to his old quarters before going home myself.

I found something interesting nailed to my door upon coming back to my home, and it cleared the way for any doubts I might have had about the rumor of me starting the fire that ruined my brother's home had gotten into even Aragorn's servants. At the moment I was not horribly focused on the idea of slapping them all in cuffs for twice spilling hot and cold liquid in places not usually mentioned – it was on the note that stared back at me from my door.

It was a rough sketch of a fellow, completely composed of ink scratches, with what looked like a sign around his neck that read, 'The Valiant Captain'. He appeared to be holding a match to an apartment building.


	9. IX

This was one of the hardest chapters to write, I really tried to keep everyone in check, so I apologize if it doesn't meet your expectations. Thank you for your encouragment!

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**Chapter Nine**

"Can you believe it? Burned it to the ground, he did, there is nothing left of it!"

"Do you believe everything you hear? I have always been under the impression that the young captain cared for his brother far too much to do something as this!"

"Well young Faramir _did_ hold the title of his father until the rightful steward surfaced once more. Jealously is a strong poison, my dear."

"Strong enough to break two brother's apart? I think not." 

"You never know. Nothing is pure anymore, and I would be more keen to believe that lot if it was not for the Halfling Peregrin Took…it seems that the lass he brought with him left him because of Faramir's influence. How could a friend do that to a friend?!"

"Strange things are happening in Minas Tirith…did you not hear of how the King turned himself in for the fire that the captain is responsible for?"

"So you're beginning to agree with me?"

The bits and pieces I had heard from that conversation left a very uneasy feeling in my stomach, but I just rode on past with my cloak over my head – not intentionally trying to conceal my identity, the wind was beginning to pick up and it looked like one of the heavy spring rains was about to be unleashed on the city. I had not seen Eowyn in a day or so and wanted to see how she fared; she had mentioned she was sick the last time I had seen her and had not attended the dinner with the King and Queen, so I was mildly concerned. Worried sick. 

I continued to ride on with my body erect and my chin up, having now tossed my hood back so that in the case of any other folk wishing to discuss their opinion of the rumors about me they would know to ask me what exactly my opinion was on the matter at hand. It would mean very little to anyone at this point, that much I was aware of. 

As Tide cantered through the fair streets of Minas Tirith I caught the tension and cold in the air, and it struck me like a set of rigid knuckles. The feeling was portrayed through many unspoken thoughts and words that were nothing more than a series of masked glowers and scowls. The people bowed their heads and were respectful as if I could not see past the ghost pale screen they held. I was, somewhere in the back of my mind, grateful that their resentment toward me was only because they cared for my brother – but I cared for him as well, and their blindness toward that fact filled my mind with less than prudent judgments.

I felt eyes on me again, and did not care for that restless charge in the winds around me so I gently dug my heels into Tide's ribs and allowed him to step the pace up. I knew not where Eowyn would be for certain, but then again I never did know where she would be – I could only venture a guess based on the time of day and what I assumed Eowyn's mood was. On a day such as this, when rain threatened to sanctify the land in a glorious assault, Eowyn was probably out in the fields; standing alone in the waves of green and looking up at the stormy sky with her arms folded across her chest and her eyes keen and narrowed as if the clouds themselves would sing to her of old tales long forgotten. 

Yet when I had at last made it to the outer circles of my city and dismounted Tide to scan Eowyn's favorite sites on the fields I found nothing. She was nowhere in the fields, in the meadows, or even when I ventured as far out as the historical site of Pelennor I still failed in my search. As I set myself down into the long grass that had once been the glory field where many lives had been given to defend Minas Tirith I wondered. 

I wondered what could have driven Eowyn away from her most revered pastimes, especially on a day such as this, the kind she fell in love with. Sitting there with my knees drawn up and supporting my elbow as I stroked my beard, the thought occurred to me that she may have actually decided to stay indoors today. It seemed to simple, so blatantly obvious that I should have conceived of it at first, but Eowyn was not the torpid type, and the idea of anything driving her to do something so out of the ordinary worried me further. 

After quickly mounting Tide once more and galloping full speed with my body inclined to the back of my horse to the city, then checking the pace to that of a safe speed, rather than my erratic earlier one, I made sure to give the peasants I had seen earlier a few glances to silently remind them who exactly was the magnate and who was the gossiping fool before heading off to the guesthouse where Eowyn dwelt. 

I fingered the scrap of paper that had been nailed to my door the night before and dusted myself off absently as I headed up the smooth stone steps, but when I pulled the doorbell the sound echoed about the insides of the house. I waited and nothing happened. I rang again. 

"Hello?" It was the shrill voice of the housekeeper, and it sounded as if she were a few feet from the door; very hesitant to open it. 

"It is Captain Faramir, lady," I replied in a loud voice, though I had fallen back upon my usual polite self. "I come to call on the Lady Eowyn."

"The Lady Eowyn is not here, my lord."

"Her brother, then."

"The King of the Mark is not here, either, lord."

"Could you please open the door?"

The door opened and a flustered woman with grey hair all pulled back behind her pink face appeared. She did not seem happy. "My apologies, lord."

"Where did Eowyn go?"

"I know naught, sir, but she left early this morning," she bowed her head respectfully. "Not a word, my lord."

"Very well, will you tell her I came by, then?"

"Aye, lord."

I nodded and in the blink of an eye the door was closed. I waited a moment or so before turning around with my hand resting on where my sword should have been, and inhaled deeply as I made for the end of the steps with my gaze to the ground. 

"Young Peregrin is not at home, either." I looked up, and Eowyn, seated on a bench around one of the elaborate water fountains outside of the guesthouse, met my eyes coolly and straightened. "Why were you looking for me, Faramir?"

I laughed, striding quickly over to the bench and hovering over her, unsure what to do with my hands so I tucked them behind my back. "Why? To see how you were feeling, of course, and to see if you wanted to spend a few hours with me."

"I am well." Eowyn stood and pulled her riding habit around her shoulders to secure it, the hood tossed back to reveal her tresses of gold hair – it was gathered in a band around her head to keep the stray pieces from her face, but the rest of it showered down her dark blue back. I caught a glimmer in her eyes – appeared grey, now, beneath a shining tear. Something dropped deep inside of me, and I reached out for her hand but she recoiled. "No, Faramir, I…" she began, swiping at the tears she could no longer hide. "Stop this."

I felt humiliation creep into a physical prick about my body, prodding me as a hot iron's tip. I awkwardly brought a hand to the back of my neck and was silent for some time, unsure how to react. Finally I inquired softly, "Will you tell me what upsets you?"

"You, Faramir. You are keeping things from me."

"What have I kept from you?" I asked desperately, and Eowyn closed her eyes tightly, uncaring for her tears that streamed down her face. 

"I spent the morning yesterday speaking with Peregrin Took." I began to object but she held a hand up and stopped me, glaring the sword that rittled my insides to ground meat with but a graze of the blade. I quieted and might have even stepped back. "The night of the banquet -- you told me that the hobbit girl had appeared from nowhere and you exchanged words, not that you kissed her and _not _that she was Peregrin's – Peregrin's friend!"

My jaw went slack and I stared at her stupidly for a moment, my hands fisting my black tunic as they sometimes did when I was desperately attempting to come up with an explanation. "Eowyn, I…never meant for anyone to find out about that, I –" My voice froze in my throat and did not move for a time while Eowyn stared at me, her silence demanding an explanation and her pale eyes wishing to hear that it was all a mistake, but I could not appease her. I finally formed words in my mouth and forced them out, "We did share a kiss, but, but Eowyn, that is not what I meant –"

"It is another excuse, Faramir, that is all it is!" she squared her shoulders with every note higher that her voice climbed, and I could say nothing in my defense. My frustration peaked. "This is madness, I expected so much more of you, Faramir, you of all people! And Pippin is your friend – "

"Eowyn, no, you are getting all of this wrong!"

"Am I?!" she demanded shrewdly, and a gust of wind swept by as if to prove her point. "Am I truly getting all of this wrong, Faramir? You _kissed_ her! You kissed Pippin's girl! He was your friend!" 

"Eowyn…"

"This is it." Eowyn shook her head and fumbled with the clasp of her riding habit before walking briskly past me to seek the stables. "Trouble follows you like a lost dog, and in all of these little dilemmas you end up hurting someone you love." She shot me a cold glance. "Or thought you did."

Without using any judgment or sense my hand shot out from where I had snared it in my tunic and grasped her white arm with hard fingers that crushed into her flesh with a burst of unintentionally released strength, and pulled her back to face me. "Eowyn, listen to me- "

"Release me!" She cried, and twisted from my grip with tears brimming in her eyes and defiant anger plain across her fair face. "I do not know what has gotten into you, Faramir, but whatever you have done has been enough to earn the disdain of the people as well as your loss of Peregrin's friendship!"

When she tried to depart again I darted to block her path rather than touch her in such a way again, and by now my rage was a burning, wrenching red wall that blinded my senses. Eowyn did not flinch, though I am certain she felt my anger. "Eowyn, you will not even allow me to explain!"

"Speak then, I am listening."

"I did kiss Diamond of Long Cleeve that night, Eowyn." I said quietly, and dangerously, stepping closer to her. Eowyn stood firm. "But I knew nothing of who she was and her business with Pippin. Nothing. But you cannot see that, Eowyn, you are so quick to believe the evils you hear against me, and even quicker to judge me!"

"What have I to believe when the entire city hails against you?!"

I threw a hand up at her, breathing heavily and so far in my argument I could have been ranting at the King and not realized it. "Your own words answer that, lady. As my friend I would think you to give me the benefit of the doubt, but it is not so! It is never so, Eowyn!"

"Faramir -" 

"I can never please you, never has anything I have said in my defense been enough for you!" It occurred to me that the housekeeper could probably hear every word I shouted so I lowered my voice to a hushed whisper and leaned in close. "And every time you assume the worst of me –" My words halted when I caught her stare and I said louder, "Eowyn, I love you, can you not see that? Everyone else sees it! I love you…I love you so much that sometimes I even forget to breathe! Ever since that day in Houses of Healing you have been my world, my heart, all I think about! I move mountains to please you, Eowyn, and still you believe that I would betray one of my dearest friends! I never knew love could be such a painful burden, never in all of this time that my heart has ached for you until now!"

"But you kissed her," Eowyn continued in a hard, quiet voice, and I wondered if she had even heard what I had said before. "Pippin is hurt, Faramir, and it is because of you."

"Yet you have no concept of how you hurt me, Eowyn! You are selfish and cannot see the situation through any eyes but your own! Look, Eowyn, look and see what you are doing to me!" 

This time the mask of defiance that so grandly hid her eyes fell bare, and when she blinked I saw the hurt. Bile rose in my throat. Eowyn had stopped my fury with nothing more than a whisper of my name and the trail of a tear. The silence between us was awkward, and the air was still and tense. The pale young woman before me looked to her shoes and said nothing.

"No, Eowyn, I did not mean it." My own voice was pathetic, and I cursed myself for the break in my words. She shook her head.

"You did." Eowyn's eyes met mine, and there were no more tears, but my heart ached just as hard. "You meant it, Faramir, and with good reason. But," Slowly did she walk past me, erect and graceful as a distant memory. "Say no more to me, I am due elsewhere."

"Where are you going?" I asked her feebly, but she whirled only briefly to catch my eyes before continuing.

"I will find out when I get there." 

And with that she left me and went into the stables, but I did not see her exit on her horse until I had cast my final glance toward the guesthouse. Eowyn was right, and I knew it. I should have swallowed my pride and explained to Pippin, I should have dealt with the issue the moment it happened instead of all of the secrecy. And I had managed to single handedly injure two people I loved.

--- --- ---

Around the time Eowyn and I had finished quarrelling, my brother and King had set out on a mission: seeking out Diamond of Long Cleeve. They had some difficulty chasing Aragorn's guards off, and eventually convinced them that Boromir could be his guard, but in the end were only lucky enough to rid them all save one. The idea was to not be intimidating to the hobbits.

Boromir strode briskly from the tailor's shop looking slightly annoyed, and Aragorn raised his brows expectantly. "Not in there?"

"Not in there."

"They were not buying fruit either." Aragorn stroked his chin out of habit. "What do hobbits do when they have the entire day to fiddle around with?"

"I have yet to spend the day with a hobbit girl, I would not know."

"What if you were a hobbit girl, where would you go?" Aragorn earned a frown from my brother, but followed up with, "Come, Boromir, we must get into their heads."

"Well, I would go and…buy things." he replied simply.

"Oh yes? What."

"What?"

"What would you buy if you were a hobbit girl?"

"Ah…" Boromir paused, planting his hands on his hips as he thought and frowning at the street. "A dress? A nice dress."

"What kind?" Apparently my brother did not pick up the amusement in the king's voice.

"Blue…blue with a kind of flowery trim around the collar," Boromir shrugged. "Probably a yellow or a white."

"It sounds very pretty, and how would you wear your hair?"

"Aragorn." Boromir folded his arms across his chest and watched Aragorn's pitiful attempt to stifle his laughter by casually pressing his cloak against his mouth hard enough to turn his knuckles white disapprovingly, clearing his throat. Aragorn looked up. "It is not appreciated."

"Forgive me, Boromir, it was too tempting." Aragorn shook off the laughter and cleared his throat as well, straightening. "We know by now that they were not out to buy a dress, or fruit…where else could they be?"

"Riding horses?"

"Ponies, Boromir, ponies."

"That too."

"Hobbits do not do well on horses, and even ponies are sizely for them." Aragorn glanced up to the sun as it climbed and threatened to end the day. "We should have Eowyn here to help us get into the mind of a young woman."

"I hardly think that Eowyn would be the right choice." 

"And my wife has an interview with her today, so there is no point in consulting Arwen." Aragorn narrowed his eyes and assumed Boromir's stance, both men searching the possibilities. The barking of a dog caught their attention, and from down the street the animal charged past them, tongues flailing as it scampered, and a young girl was running after in hot pursuit. Aragorn and Boromir shared a glance, and then quickly stepped in to block her path.

A second later they found themselves sprawled on the ground and disoriented with the girl above them apologizing profusely and locked in the arms of the guard. 

"My King! My King, I am so sorry, I did not even notice you until it was too late, I –" the dirt streaked face of the girl in the yellow dress suddenly crumbled and she began sobbing. "You are going to arrest me, aren't you? Oh, please have mercy!"

Aragorn shook his head and ordered the guard to release her while he and Boromir tried to calm her without drawing attention. Heads were turning. "No, no, everything is all right! Stop crying, we just want to talk with you! Are you not all right, Boromir?"

"My backside has never throbbed harder."

"Boromir!"

"Right, it's fine," The steward smacked his rear casually and transformed a wince into a smile as he addressed the sniffling girl. "See, no harm done. Now we just wish to speak with you, is that all right?"

"You won't arrest me?"

"No!"

"But I bruised your – "

"It was an accident!" Aragorn said with a smile, stooping to look her in the teary brown eyes. "And it was our fault, at that, my guard just panicked…will you give us the pleasure of your company for a few minutes, lady…"

The girl smiled shyly at her title. "Miriel."

"…Lady Miriel?"

"I suppose so, if you wish it, my King." she lowered her eyes respectfully, and Aragorn said,

"Well, you see, we are attempting to find a girl a little older than you, I suppose, and just would like to know where you might be on a day like today if you were her."

"I…umm…I would buy a dress." she smiled and reached up to wrap on of her curls around a finger. "A blue one with yellow flowers." 

Aragorn frowned. "Oh. Well thank you for talking with us, Miriel. You can go, if you want."

"I will," she curtsied and dashed back on the trail of her pet, leaving Aragorn and Boromir back at square one. "Goodbye!"

"Farewell." Aragorn nodded at her, and turned back to Boromir thoughtfully. "She shares your taste."

"Oh be quiet."

"I believe our target just traced your steps into the tailor's shop," Aragorn, still a tad bruised and shaken from the run in with the girl, ducked behind his guard covertly for reasons he himself were unaware of, though Boromir found it necessary and assumed his position as they watched Diamond and Rosie make for the shop. "All that searching and we just come back to where we started. Interesting."

"Halflings are unpredictable."

"Not entirely."

"Well they can be," Boromir shrugged beside the crouching King of Gondor. "I never in my wildest dreams expected Pippin to burn down my home…well, maybe in my wildest dreams…" Boromir trailed off and stood when both hobbit girls had gone into the shop and waved a hand at the door. "Shall we?"

Aragorn nodded wordlessly and led the way, earning a few glances and head turns as they pushed the large doors open and entered the cool room. Diamond was at the desk with Rosie Cotton, and they were inquiring the price of a blue and yellow dress. Boromir grunted in victory.

"Diamond of Long Cleeve, Rose Cotton?" the guard caught the pretty lasses' attention, and when they saw Boromir and Aragorn their faces lit up and they curtsied. 

"King Elessar!" Both hobbits exclaimed in unison, and Aragorn nodded politely. Diamond was first to speak up. "What a pleasure meeting you here…and you too, Lord Steward." Rosie nodded in agreement. "If you don't mind my asking why have you come here? I know you are not shopping for dresses."

Aragorn gave a single-shouldered shrug in Boromir's direction and looked like he wanted to say something but caught the murderous look in Boromir's eyes and decided against it. Instead he stepped forward most regally and said, "Ladies, if we may have a word?"

--- --- --- 

I had to find Pippin because I knew he was the only one that could set these things right again. All of Minas Tirith was angry with me for the malice I did not possess, and the crime that I had not committed, and Pippin hated me for stealing Diamond's heart. I shoved every doubt I had been harboring down to where it would not surface again and dismounted Tide, not even bothering to tether him anywhere. The wind stung my eyes and whipped my hair and cloak behind me as if they were nothing, but I barely noticed while making my way up the stairs of the Hobbit's house.

Despite their size the Hobbit's had insisted that the city go to no trouble in making them an entire house, no matter how big, just for their use, so I did not have to duck my head while entering the porch. I was aware of every breath I took and every creak of my leather boots against the wooden planks, dreading this moment but also wanting for this all to end. If Pippin still valued the friendship we once shared he would listen to me and do his best to sort this out with me.

I rapped my knuckles hard against the door without even considering the bell, and a tall thin man answered. Upon seeing me his eyes widened and he bowed his head respectfully.

"Captain Faramir – "

"I must speak with the Halflings."

"I will announce you, if that is all right, sir."

I shook my head and pushed past him into the house, forgetting my rudeness and scanning the wide room breathlessly. At the table were the four hobbits – Merry, Sam, Frodo and Merry's friend Estella, one of the fair little hobbit lasses they brought along with him. I felt relief flood into me at the sight of no Pippin, but also disappointment, for I wanted to end this as soon as possible. The hobbits were regarding me with wide, confused eyes, and as it usually is with women, Estella was the first to acknowledge me.

"Captain Faramir," she stood and curtsied. "What an unexpected pleasure!"

I nodded at all of them when they said hello, and Merry asked me, "Is something wrong?"

Frodo was pale, very pale, but he looked healthy enough and asked me with reassuring vigor, "Would you join us for lunch?"

I shook my head. "I must decline…is Pippin around, however? There is something I must discuss with him…"

"Has he done something wrong?" Frodo inquired hesitantly, and for a moment I was compelled to spill everything out to my friends of their cousin and this misunderstanding, but something held me back. I cared for Pippin, greatly, and to speak ill of him was almost physically painful. I shook my head.

"Nothing. Pippin has done nothing wrong."


	10. X

**A/N**: A thousand apologies for this late chapter. I've had a play, school, and my neck got thrown out of whack so I had to get that fixed. I'm sorry, but you have all been great! Thanks for everything!

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**Chapter Ten**

Time slowed to a crawl that day. Eowyn had mounted a horse and rode away into still of the heavy rain scented morning, and it was the last I saw of her for several days that may as well have been an eternity. Every agonized moment we were apart I felt the seams begin to loosen more and more. Eowyn's mood controlled the skies, my skies, and when she was hurting my sky was grey and the rain hammered down upon my upturned face with the grief of the world in its force. Not even the rain could catch my attention as I exited the guest suite of the Halflings. 

"Faramir!" Frodo was at my side, eyes never leaving my face as my long strides took me out of the house. He was convinced the rain would be the death of me, but I had no desire to stay seated when there was something I could do to change my situation – there _had_ to be something. I had to find her, but Frodo's cold fingers were digging through my sleeve, to my bone. He was pushing his heels down into the floor in an attempt to make his own body weight an anchor. "Please, don't leave now! It's pouring like never before, you will catch your death – "

"Frodo, I cannot stay," I said, not even giving him a look as I pulled him and myself along slowly but surely to the door. I knew that if I locked eyes with one of the most passionate hobbits in the North he would convince me to stay. Somehow. So to be safe I kept my eyes on the door. "There is something of great importance I must discuss with the Lady Eowyn."

"Did something happen?" 

"No, no, I…" At that point I realized how hopeless my situation was, and that I would at one moment or the next have to explain myself to my friends. My arm fell limply at my side and Frodo, waiting a minute to see if I was trusty worthy not to bolt, gingerly released me. My chest felt tight, and my shoulders hung from their sockets as if I carried a great pack upon them, so I straightened and inhaled deeply. It felt good. "Eowyn and I quarreled this afternoon."

"But you were so eager to see Pippin."

Observant little fellows, these Halflings are. "Yes, well…I…wanted to know where he was." The answer was an obvious block, and I squeezed my eyes shut to stop myself from mouthing a curse that fought the walls of my throat. "And…"

"It would be easier to just tell me what Pippin has done, Faramir." Frodo said quietly so no one else in the house could hear, and as I found his eyes I felt very foolish. The hobbit pulled me slowly back away from where the rain rebounded off of the deck and into the open door. "Come, Faramir, if Pippin is in any trouble I think it is best that we know of it."

"I fought with Eowyn, Frodo…I wish I could tell you all at this moment, but I cannot." I gently freed myself from his hand and took a step away from him to be sure he would not seize me again. But Frodo nodded, watching me from where he stood, and I appreciated the sense of trust. "I promise I will make sense of all this."

"Good luck, Faramir." Frodo smiled and held a hand out. "I hope you make amends with Eowyn, and, well…"

"And well…?" I prompted with my own smile, knowing what Frodo was implying.

"Well everyone knows how you feel for her! I just hope that it all comes out in your favor." I clasped Frodo's hand and shook it roughly, grinning. Frodo laid his other hand on the back of mine and then gestured to the door. "Go on then."

"Good day, Frodo Baggins." My gratitude toward Frodo as I walked out the door and into the rain was something I will not soon forget. Though he knew nothing of the current situation, he knew it was something better left unsaid, and respected my need for silence. 

--- --- ---

"Eowyn, have you spoken to Faramir lately?"  At the sound of the name that had brought her no pleasure on this dreary afternoon Eowyn looked up. She was leaning over the large table in the dining room with her chin on her forearms, dozing quietly and trying to put the earlier events out of her mind. Eomer had entered her suite noisily, without any warning, as is his way, but when he did not hear her respond he came into the dining room. "Sister?"

"What of Faramir?" she inquired huskily, and raised her head in mid yawn. Her blinks were uncaring and slow. 

"I asked you if you had spoken to him lately." Eomer's voice was now concerned, and he pulled out the chair beside her and hastily sat down, trying to trail her eyes. "I met with Aragorn and Boromir on the street and they appeared to be browsing for dresses. A little out of character for them, as you know, which had me concerned…" he slowed, and finally stopped talking when Eowyn looked away. "I thought Faramir might know something about it."

"Oh, Faramir knows something of it, I will wager." Eowyn's head sank back down to rest on her arms. "He has been sneaking around so often it is circulating around the city, rumor upon rumor, and some of them are true. He admitted to it."

"Nothing serious, I should hope." Eomer hesitantly laid a hand on her thin shoulder. "Nothing that will tarnish his reputation?"

"Oh, just silly things. He considered them too silly to bring them to my attention." Eowyn glanced over at her brother with an affectionate smile, and covered his hand with hers. "You and are uncle are the only men I have ever truly been able to rely on."

"Eowyn, what has put you in this state?" 

"Faramir."

Eomer immediately tensed and momentarily forgot that we had been friends for ten years, pounding a clenched fist on the table and even making Eowyn jump. "What did he do? Eowyn, if he has done anything to harm you, in heart or mind or body, I will make him suffer so – "

"Eomer, Faramir is your friend!"

The King of the Mark hesitated, then sat back and confidently folded his arms. "Then I'm certain he would understand. Where is he?" Eomer began to rise, but his sister seized his arm and pulled him down onto the chair with a nervous laugh.

"No, no, leave Faramir be, Eomer," Eowyn smoothed his damp hair away from his face, as if just noticing how wet he was. I certainly owe Eowyn a thank you for clearing that matter up – accepting a challenge from Eomer would not have gone well in my favor, even if by some miracle I had won the fight. "It is not worth violence, it was a simple disagreement…" Eowyn's voice was not as convincing as her words, and Eomer sensed it all too well.

"That ended in an array of hurtful words from Faramir."

"Well, yes – " Eomer shot to his feet as a commanded steed again, and the chair skidded backward on the floor, screeching, but Eowyn's hands shot out and she pulled him down. "But Eomer, I had my share of faults in the argument, now please, sit down! Everything will be mended, these things do not last forever."

Eomer snorted and took his seat, letting his elbows rest on the oak table. He regarded Eowyn with raised brows, and his sister averted her eyes, knowing what question would surface next. The room was silent, only filtering in the sound of pattering rain, and then Eomer spoke. "What did you quarrel about?"

"Would you mind so terribly if I told you after I found a resolution to all of this?" She inquired softly, running her thumb over the back of his hand gently and giving him a small smile. Eomer frowned, debating whether or not to force the truth out of his wild sister, and finally gave in. He sighed and nodded, waving her away. Eowyn grinned, and quickly came to her feet. She glided across the room to catch her cloak from the wall, and Eomer sat in bewilderment as she prepared to leave. 

"Where are you going?"

"I wish to see one of my friends. She will know what to do." Eowyn told him from somewhere in the suite, and Eomer gave a ragged sigh, sinking into the chair and closing his eyes. Eowyn passed him, raking a casual gaze over his body, and then paused in her stride. She frowned, taking in the mud that spattered his tunic and caked his boots. "Eomer?"

"Mmm? Yes?"

"What happened to you?"

The King of the Mark glanced down, having forgotten his own state, and started. "Oh…oh! Of course. I had, eh…some trouble with a jittering horse. Had to chase it, I was dragged several feet. Yards. Yards, more than feet, I do not rightly remember. I suppose the weather startled it." Eowyn regarded him with furrowed brows, evaluating the level of truth that actually belonged to the statement. 

"I see. Well, are you staying here while I go out?"

"Just for a little while." he assured her with a wink and a smile. Eowyn hesitated, nodding slowly, and then leaning down to plant a kiss on his forehead. "Goodbye, sister."

"Please do not get mud everywhere."

"I will stay in this seat the whole time, I promise."

"Of course," Eowyn gave his head a quick pat. "Of course you will."

--- --- --- 

The rain was weighing my hair and my clothing down, and I was soon not even walking, I was trudging. Trudging aimlessly for the most part of an hour, until I decided that Eowyn would most likely be back at her suite.

Unfortunately I was wrong. At the very same time I trudged around Minas Tirith Eowyn had already arrived at the King's house, soaking wet. Only a few minutes after she had been showed in and announce did Arwen come out to meet her. The queen made her way with graceful speed down the staircase and across the floor.

"Eowyn, I have not seen you since the night of the banquet!" Arwen grasped the Eowyn's cold hands, and then pulled her into an embrace. "How have you been? Faramir told me you had been ill." 

"I have not been feeling my best, I will admit," Eowyn returned the gesture. "Faramir and I have not been agreeing lately. Misunderstandings, you know the sort, leading to hurtful exchanges." Arwen watched Eowyn with eyes that had seen for over two thousand years, blue and cool and full of understanding. 

"Has it anything to do with this Peregrin Took business?"

"Oh," Eowyn laughed half-heartedly and moved back a step. "More than you know, my friend."

Arwen waited a moment in silence before laying a gentle hand on Eowyn's still damp shoulder. She offered another smile. "Would you like to talk about it? Aragorn went with the Steward to see to business, so it will be a least an hour before they come stomping in here challenging one another." Laughter rippled through Eowyn's doubt. She knew Arwen spoke nothing but the truth.

"It is good to see them in such high spirits," Eowyn told the queen as they exited the room together. "But I feel the need to inquire…this 'business' you speak of would not involve dress shopping, would it?"

Arwen opened her mouth to speak, then decided against it.

Eowyn's suite was before me, silent and still in the middle of the pouring rain. I could not summon the courage to go and speak to her, and as I stood alone in the street I wondered why. All of our disagreements in the past I was able to face her afterward, apologize, and mean it, but now words came not to me even in thought. There was still so much explaining left to do! 

I had to find that hobbit lass, Diamond of what-is-it-called, and have her talk to Pippin so that these rumors would stop spreading! I swore to myself that I would go mad if one more person glared at me, and on that note was my courage rekindled. I inhaled deeply and took a step forward, keeping my arms at my sides and my chin up, hardly noticing how the rain slowed around me as I strode. I balked when I came to the steps, however, and found it very difficult to continue. 

Perhaps the next day would be better, I thought, and promptly began to turn, but my body jerked back to face the door. What if there was no next day?

I clenched a fist and rapped it against the door, then stepped back; waiting. The seconds between the time the door opened and my standing outside trying to keep my throat ready to spout apologies was torture. 

Whatever Eowyn was doing in there it was certainly making a lot of noise, it sounded like she was jumping over furniture. I frowned and tried to listen better, but suddenly the door flew open. It was Eomer, muddy and scraped to the point of blood. 

"Eomer…! What happened to…" I trailed off, leaning back to get a full view of my battered friend. He quirked a brow and looked down at himself. "What happened to you?"

"Um, we had some trouble earlier, nothing really," Eomer cleared his throat and leaned on the door frame, turning his eyes on me and surveying my own soaking, ragged appearance. "I suppose you are looking for my sister."

"Well, yes, considering I am at her suite."

Eomer nodded quietly, biting his lower lip in thought and turning his head to the side. He exhaled heavily. "Yes, well…you realize how upset she is with you, I assume."

"I came to apologize!" My voice came out all too quickly and eager. "There has been a great misunderstanding that I am working desperately to repair, you must understand that, Eomer! Is Eowyn here at all?" I was aware of how pathetic I sounded, but Eomer did not seem to be. He only glanced behind him, into the house and then back at me, but kept his eyes averted. By the expression on his dirt splotched face I saw that he did not want to injure me with his words, but also thought it better that I heed them.

"No. She will return in an hour or so, but I…think you should not come back to see her." Eomer straightened, and this time he looked me in the eyes. He seemed sympathetic. "Give her some time, Faramir. These things will mend, but for now…" he stepped back into the house. "I think you should leave."

My insides felt clenched, and my throat tightened and ached, but I did not let my disappointment be seen. Much. My neck no longer felt it necessary to support my head, and it drooped a bit. My chin hit my chest, and I immediately jerked it up with a forced, polite smile. I nodded, and when again I looked to my friend he was nodding with me. I slowly moved back a pace, and the deck creaked beneath me. "Will you tell her I came by, Eomer?"  
"I will."

"Thank you." I remained with the offered smile, and good naturedly held my hands up to show I held no hard feelings towards him for any of this. But the door came slowly to a close, and I was left alone on the steps. How had it all come to this? One simple decision to watch the stars on a cloudless night, that was all it had been, but it had turned into so much more. 

"Doesn't it feel wonderful?" I spun quickly at the new voice, knowing exactly who it was. Pippin stood at the bottom of the steps, little arms folded and his blue jacket sagging around his other soaked garments. His light brown hair was dripping around his expressionless pale face, uncaring for the cold the rain left. He studied me carefully. "Not even King Eomer wants you to talk to her."

_Keep yourself calm,_ I thought silently, clenching my jaw and slowly lowering myself to his level. "Do you see what you have done to me?" I asked him, quietly, and Pippin did not seem at all threatened by my moving toward him. He even looked me right in the eye as I neared. 

My looming height was now only a foot or so away from him, and I threw an arm out in a gesture toward the city. It was quiet but beginning to come back to life. "My city thinks that I have burned down the home of my brother, Peregrin, and Eowyn will not see me. A disaster is stirring, do you not see so?" I knelt this time, careful to keep my hands to myself. Tension rose in my arms, a sparking energy that wanted to be used. "You can stop this, Pippin!"

"Diamond will not see me, either." 

"Pippin," This time I seized him by the biceps, gently, and moved my face so close to his my nose almost bumped his nose. "I know you did it…turn yourself in. Avoid humiliation and _please_," I sank further than to my knees, I was begging him, pleading with him. He only watched me in an almost curious fashion. "_Please_ end this! Are we not still friends, you and I? Are we not still friends?"

"Tell me, Faramir," Pippin avoided my statement of his guilt and pried my fingers off his arms, smoothing the wrinkles from his drenched, heavy blue jacket. The eyes of the Took were hard and sharp as glass shards, cutting into my frustrated haze. "Does a friend steal the love of his friend's life? All he cares about, all that makes him happy, and all the while never lets him know that he is sinking his friend's ship? Are those the actions of a friend?"

"Actions of a friend…" I breathed in disbelief, dropping my hands so that my elbows balanced limply on my knees. My heart sank to my heels. I shook my head and reached out to snatch him by the elbows again, but he yanked away from me. The distrust in his eyes hurt, but I spoke on anyway, "Pippin, you think that I stole Diamond from you, it is _not_ true! Why can you not see that?!"

"Because she _left_ me for _you_," Pippin hissed with venom. "Why should I not believe her?! I have loved her since long before I came of age, and for a long time she loved me too…I knew it…" Pippin's eyes glittered with tears and he ran a sleeve across them, smearing them into the rain droplets. "But of you I had hoped for more – "

"Pippin, you have to believe me when I say I have no idea why your friend is acting this way!"

"Because of you!" Pippin snorted and took several steps back. "I am sorry for Boromir's home…I had thought it to be yours, so I threw a rock in the window." The hobbit folded his arms tightly and sniffled loudly, keeping his chin up. "But I never meant to start a fire then…now I'm not so sure – "

"Pippin, you started this whole thing!" I spouted, coming to my feet once more and again feeling a distant twang of admiration for this brave little fellow, though it was poisoned with my anger. I hovered my finger above his face as I spoke to him through gritted teeth, no more pleading, no more begging. "You have the power to end it…turn yourself in, or I will have you arrested! Please do not make me do such a thing!"

"You have no proof."

"Peregrin Took, I did not steal Diamond!" I bellowed, and heads began to turn around us. Curious eyes and inquiring faces. My own face heated with embarrassment and I lowered my voice to a hard whisper, but Pippin seemed unaffected. My knees hit the gravel as I knelt again, and I was sure I felt warm blood beginning to soak through my trousers, but I did not feel the pain. The thunder cracked over our heads, and rain began to gently sprinkle down upon us in a mist, but the clouds veiled the sun. "Do not place your anger all on me because Diamond's affections have transferred! I did not wish it, Peregrin, but this is my life you are – you are tarnishing!"

"I am going home," Pippin spat with finality, and spun on his heel to leave. He snapped loudly over his shoulder, "I am not tarnishing your life, you are." 

"Peregrin!" I shouted, lunging forward to catch him and try to talk more sense into him, but he broke into a run, skidding across the streets and breaking through the raindrops with an amazing speed. I stopped, and the rain seemed to get harder. I cupped my hands around my mouth and shouted after him, uncaring who stared at me.  People were skittering around to find shelter from the next wave of rain. "Peregrin, sort this out, but do not take it out on your friends! Peregrin, please!" 

When he had disappeared without so much as a second glance I swore and kicked at the puddled ground, sending a spray of muddy water up into the rain sprinkled air. I had lost Eowyn, Peregrin would not believe me – or if he did, his anger blinded him to reason. I fisted my hair and shut my eyes tightly to gather my wits, but only emotions – anger, frustration, disappointment, were there to meet me. 

And when I lifted my head to see my surroundings the streets were empty. I was alone.


End file.
